The Fire You Touch
by Aieshya
Summary: Aeryn Blake's father was a wizard, but she herself is a mutant. When given the opportunity to attend Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she jumps at the chance. But is she prepared for what is to follow? A dark Snape fanfic based on Harry Potter
1. The Boy With The Owl

**_A/N:  _**_If you've reading this, I assume you love the moody Professor Snape as much as I do.  And I do love him—he's one of the best just-shy-of-this-side-of-good characters I've ever met.  Couple that with my inner love for bad guys in particular (but only in film and books), and I'm in heaven._

_Before you read my story, however, you must realize that THIS IS NOT A TYPICAL SNAPE FANFIC.  Actually, perhaps I should restate that last phrase:_

_THIS IS NOT A TYPICAL FANFIC.  PERIOD.  SNAPE, HARRY POTTER, OR OTHERWISE._

_If any of you are overly sensitive, stop reading this right now._  _The story starts off tame, but it will run the gambit by the end.  Murder, violence, rape… you name it, it's probably in the story.  Don't say I didn't warn you._

_The title of my story, "The Fire You Touch," comes from a line from the song "Let Him Fly" on the Dixie Chicks' album Fly._

_There's no mercy in a live wire_

No rest at all in freedom 

_Choices we are given_

_It's no choice at all_

_The proof is in the fire_

_You touch before it moves away – yeah_

_But you must always know _

_How long to stay and when to go_

_            -"Let Him Fly," by Patty Griffin_

_            Performed by the Dixie Chicks_

_All of J.K. Rowling's characters from the Harry Potter novels and the world of Hogwarts is hers.  Duh.  Information on mutants in general is property of Marvel Comics.  Aeryn is mine, as are any random ideas that don't seem to fit with either the normal Harry Potter world or Marvel Comics.  I would be flattered if anyone wishes to use one of my ideas—I only ask that you inform me first._

_And thus, on to the adventure…_

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 1:  The Boy With The Owl 

Vernon Dursley of four Privet Drive was in an extremely foul mood that Tuesday morning.  

"Petunia!" he roared to his wife, his large face turning beet red.  "Hurry up!  Let's get this bloody business out of the way!"  He slammed the front door and headed for the car.

"Why do _I_ have to go to the station?" whined Dudley Dursley, pulling on his mother's hand.  He was extremely fat and his four chins quivered morosely.

"Because, Sweetums, Mrs. Polkiss is gone this week, and you can't stay here while Aeryn cleans the house."  Petunia Dursley leaned over and kissed her son on the head.  She didn't sound too pleased about the arrangements.

Neither did Dudley.  He scrunched up his face as if he were about to cry.  "I don't want to go!" he wailed.  He slumped to the ground and pounded his heels against the kitchen floor.  "I wanna stay here!  I wanna stay here!"  
  


Aeryn's breath stopped in her throat.  _Please God, no, _she prayed frantically.  Dudley had stayed at home last week when she had come in to clean.  The rotten tyke had tromped muck on the carpets and pulled everything off the shelves.  Mrs. Dursley had complained bitterly about Aeryn's poor work while her son chortled gleefully behind his fat hand.

"Dinky Duddledums, don't act like that, please!" cried Mrs. Dursley, swooping down on her son.  Her arms barely fit around him.  "We'll stop at the store on the way back from the station, and Mummy will buy you a present, wouldn't you like that, sweetums?"

_He sure would, _Aeryn thought sourly.  _Not as much as he'd like to stuff his face, though._

Dudley gave a large sniff.  He looked up at his mother with a spiteful gleam in his eye.  "And you won't get Harry anything?" he burbled.

"Shh!"  Mrs. Dursley said frantically, shooting a wary glance at Aeryn as she cuddled her son.  "No, Duddy-poo," she cooed.  "We'll let you get whatever you want, but…er…_he_ won't get anything."

Aeryn's ears pricked up immediately.

From outside, Mr. Dursley honked the horn.  Aeryn never knew a car could sound so peeved.  Snuffling miserably, but with a malicious grin on his fat face, Dudley toddled out the door.

"I'll be right there, honeybunch!"  Mrs. Dursley called as her son slammed the door.  She turned to Aeryn, all sweetness gone from her face.  "I've left a list of extra things for you to finish while we're gone," she snapped.  "We'll be back within two hours.  Make sure everything is done by the time we're back."

Aeryn's jaw dropped open, but Mrs. Dursley had already whirled on her heel and was headed for the door.  

"Oh, Mrs. Dursley!" Aeryn called in her most pleasant voice, seconds before the woman walked out of the house.  "Who's Harry?"

Mrs. Dursley stopped dead in her tracks.  "No one," she said after a brief hesitation.

"No one?"  Aeryn packed all the disbelief she could into her voice.  

Mrs. Dursley's shoulders hunched.

"He's Dudley's cousin, and no concern of yours!" she hissed.  She stalked out the door, slamming it so hard behind her that it rattled in its frame.  After a moment, the car door closed and the Dursleys' car puttered out of the driveway.

*          *          *

Aeryn started on her chores immediately.  It was so much easier to do them when Mrs. Dursley wasn't breathing down her neck, or Dudley wasn't underfoot, or Mr. Dursley wasn't sitting in the chair she was supposed to vacuum and then yelled at her when she made him move.

Aeryn didn't hate many people, but she did hate the Dursleys.  She was, however, the only person in Little Whinging that would clean their house.  From the state it was always in, the Dursleys couldn't afford not to have her.  She came to their house twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays, and they fortunately paid her well.  Aeryn never lost a chance to remind them how valuable she was to them.

After putting the laundry in the washer—Dudley had spilled chocolate ice cream down the front of his white sailor's suit again—Aeryn began to scrub the floor.  Her shoulders began to ache after a while, but it was a good feeling.  She wondered, as she pushed a handful of hair from her eyes, what this cousin Harry-boy was like.  She had a sickening vision of a mirror image of Dudley, white-blond hair and fat face and all.

But the Dursleys didn't seem happy about Harry's visit.  As she dumped the dirty water into the sink, the thought popped into Aeryn's head that anyone who the Dursleys didn't like couldn't be all that bad.  After all, they didn't like her.  It was nice to know that the feeling was mutual.

Aeryn would have finished cleaning if she hadn't found the gallon of melting vanilla ice cream in one of the cupboards.  She was putting the scrubbed and de-stickied pots and pans away when the Dursleys' car pulled up the driveway of 4 Privet Drive.

"Damn it!" Aeryn muttered.  She rushed to the kitchen table and grabbed her purse, fully intending to get out of there before she could have a run-in with the Dursleys, but her purse flew into the air and the contents spilled in a cascading wave across the table.  She swore again and hurriedly crouched down to pick her things up.  

The front door opened.  

"…Those dirty, trashy things go right into the cupboard, d'you hear me?" yelled Mr. Dursley.  He stepped into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Aeryn on the floor, guiltily holding a handful of change and a roll of mints.

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?" he roared, the veins standing out in his neck.

"I was just leaving," muttered Aeryn, stuffing the change and mints into her purse.  She stood up quickly and her eyes caught sight of a small figure standing behind Mr. Dursely.

He was a small, very thin boy, with thick black hair that stuck out at every angle all over his head.  Aeryn caught sight of a thin, zigzagging scar on his forehead.  He was swimming in his clothes that could have easily been Dudley's cast-offs and wore round glasses.  Aeryn's eyes strayed to the large, obviously heavy trunk on the floor next to him.  A black piece of material peeked out from the lid and a broomstick was stuck through the handle of the trunk.  In his right hand, the boy held a large cage.  Inside was an owl.  A snowy owl.  The owl suddenly lifted its head and stared straight at Aeryn, its golden eyes wide.

Aeryn felt the color leach from her face.

"Hi," the boy said shyly.

"Go downstairs, Harry!"  Mr. Dursley snapped to the boy, but his face was a bit frightened.  "Put your things away!"

Harry grinned once more at Aeryn, then hurried off down the stairs to the basement.

"So that's Harry," Aeryn said softly.  She looked over at Mr. Dursley.  "Dudley's cousin?"

Mr. Dursley looked very upset.  "Er…Miss Blake…Aeryn…I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention Harry to anyone.  Quite a disturbed young boy, you see.  Sad story.  Wouldn't like word to get out."  He shook his head in a semblance of sadness.

"Why does he have an owl?"  Aeryn asked.

Mr. Dursley coughed quite suddenly.  "I…er…." He shoved a finger under his collar as if it had grown quite tight.  "Now, Aeryn, how about a raise?"

"A raise?"

"Two more pounds an hour.  Well, I see the house is done.  Off with you now."  He took Aeryn by the shoulders and practically shoved her out the door.  "And remember…don't mention Harry to anyone, that's a good girl."

The door slammed in her face.

In a daze, Aeryn walked to her bicycle.  Dudley was getting out of the car, clutching a package in his hand and looking quite pleased with himself.  Mrs. Dursley looked over at Aeryn and shrieked, "If the place isn't spotless this time, I'll deduct five pounds from your pay on Friday!"

Aeryn grabbed her bike and pedaled away, her knuckles white against the grips as she fought to keep her hands from trembling.


	2. Aeryn

**Chapter 2: Aeryn**

Aeryn shut the door to her flat and leaned her forehead against the wood.  The image of Dudley's cousin burned against her closed eyelids.  The trunk.  The broomstick.

The owl.

_It looks just like Dad's…._

Aeryn slumped to the floor, her knees weak.  

*          *          *

Aeryn's father had been a wizard.  Or, he liked to say that he had been a wizard, but he never had been given the proper training for his powers.  In America, being a wizard was regarded more of a curse then a blessing.  American wizards, or 'extrasensory controllers,' as they liked to be called, found that a focus on politics, business, and everyday life was more important than cultivating their talent.  For the nation of individuality, the wizard movement was severely backward.

Aeryn's father, Roger Blake, had been born in England, but had moved to the States when he was four years old.  Because he was technically a British citizen, he had received an invitation to join a school of magic when he turned eleven.  Neither of his parents were wizards, and they forbade him from joining the school.  Her father had been devastated.  Over the next few years, he gathered as many books on magic as he could find to try and home-train his talents.  He even found small support groups for 'extrasensory controllers,' but left each of them bitterly disappointed when he discovered none of them wanted to cultivate their powers.

He had always dreamed of returning to England.  His dream never came true.  Roger went to school with ordinary children, learned ordinary topics, went to an ordinary college, and eventually was employed in an ordinary job as an accountant for an advertising firm.

Then he met Fiona White.  He fell in love with her instantly, and they were married after a whirlwind courtship.  For once in his life, Roger had started to think that maybe he could have a happy life, even without fulfilling his hopes of becoming a wizard.  He and Fiona had Aeryn two years after their marriage, and life looked rosy.

Then the mutant scare hit America.

No one knew exactly why it came in such a rush, but all of a sudden America had once again turned against those different from the norm.  The very vocal Senator Kelly from New York had begun the call for mutant registration.  Fiona Blake had been terrified.  Her sister carried the mutant gene and lived in fear each day of being discovered. 

Aeryn remembered her father calling the mutant scare a _witch hunt,_ a bitter, sarcastic phrase for him to use.  "I tell you, Fiona," he said, "if this Senator Kelly knew about us with extrasensory control, we'd be his next victims!"

But Aeryn's childhood had been good.  Her father had enough money for the three of them to live in a comfortable home in the suburbs of Newhaven, Michigan.  She was a very friendly child, and made lots of friends in school.  

Instead of having a dog or cat for a pet, though, her father had purchased a large snowy-white owl, which he kept in the house.  It was a very well-behaved owl, never hooting loudly inside and always coming back to its cage before daylight.  "Every wizard should have such a familiar!" Roger had always said.

In Aeryn's eleventh year, her father had begun to test her for extrasensory control.  In the basement of their two-story house, he would draw a mail-order wand from his sleeve and levitate bricks, change needles into matchsticks, and zoom around the cramped quarters on a broomstick.  Aeryn had tried her hardest, but never succeeded.  Her father was disappointed, certainly, but he never ceased giving her the lessons.

"You'll see, sweetie," he said to her one day.  "You're just a late bloomer.  You've got magic in you yet!"

Aeryn had hoped so.  It didn't matter too much, though.  She was happy.

Until the evening of her fifteenth birthday.

She came home from school one October evening.  She realized something was terribly wrong the moment she stepped foot in her house.  The windows were broken and the house was shrouded in shadows.  As Aeryn called out for her mother, she stepped in something slick and wet and nearly slipped.  Putting her fingers to the wet patch, she stepped over to a patch of moonlight.  Her fingers were stained a dark red.  She looked down at the floor again, and she saw a white, shapeless lump on the floor.  It was her father's owl.  Its neck had been broken.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind, and there was a blinding pain at the back of her head.  She awoke some time later, her head aching, and heard a heavy voice threatening her father.  

"I know what you are, Blake," the voice said.  "Will you join us or not?"

"I'm not a mutant," her father mumbled.  He had been cut, and blood was pouring down his face in a scarlet curtain.  Like her, he was tied to a chair.  The huge man before him punched her father in the jaw. 

Her mother, tied up next to him, screamed.  Aeryn cried out as well, but a resounding slap across her face silenced her.  "Quiet," hissed a voice.  It was a woman, and her voice was as thin and cool as a snake's whisper.

What happened next would be forever engrained in Aeryn's memory.  The huge man leaned down to her father and pulled out a long, sharp knife.  It glinted menacingly in his hand.  "I'll give you one more chance, Blake," he hissed.  "You may not be a mutant, but we've got uses for folks with powers like yours.  Join us now."

Her father looked the man in the eye and spit in his face.  "Go to hell," he snapped.

The man wiped the spit away from his suddenly impassive face.  "You did this to yourself," he said quietly.  With a swift motion, he grabbed Fiona's hair and slashed the blade across her neck.

The cry that tore from Roger Blake's mouth was that of a keening hawk.

_"Mama!" _Aeryn sobbed.  Fiona slumped in her bonds, her eyes going lifeless as blood poured from her neck.  

Aeryn strained against the ropes holding her.  

"Fiona."  Her father's voice was broken.

The huge man whirled around and walked over to Aeryn.  He ducked down and glared into her eyes.  She looked away from him, tears streaming down her cheeks.  

"Shall I kill her next, Blake?" the man asked calmly.

_"No!"_ Roger shrieked.

The man put his hands on either side of Aeryn's face.  She struggled even harder against her bonds.  Pain shot up her arms, but she felt the cords slipping slowly away from her.

All of a sudden, he was inside her head, and there was a terrible fire raging in her brain.  She screamed.  The pain grew unbearable, and she thrashed back and forth in the chair, trying to throw him away from her.  She was going to die.  She knew it.

Then, all of a sudden, the huge man gave a cry, and his presence withdrew from her.  The absence was like cooling water.  Gulping deep, huge breaths, Aeryn fell forward in the chair.  She was trembling uncontrollably, and she looked towards her father.  His lips were moving rapidly, and she saw with horror and pride that he had somehow drawn his wand from his sleeve and had pointed it at the huge man.

The huge man snarled.  He threw out his hand towards Roger, and her father's eyes went wide.  His face turned deathly pale, and the wand fell from his hand.  For an instant, his gaze locked with his daughter's, and he mouthed the words _I'm sorry.  _Then his head lolled backwards.

Aeryn couldn't even sob.  But the ropes holding her hands were suddenly loose.

"What now?" the woman snarled.

The huge man wiped a hand across his face and shrugged.  "Kill the girl, then we'll get out of here."  He spat on Roger's body.  "Damn you, Blake, we _needed _you."

Rage boiled up in Aeryn's body as the woman advanced towards her and yanked her head backwards.  She stared into those cold eyes, fury starting to overwhelm the fear she felt.  The woman lifted a knife and brought it down towards Aeryn's throat.

Aeryn pulled her hand from the ropes and caught the woman's wrist an instant before the blade pierced her skin.  She clenched her teeth and _pulled_ as hard as she could, not with her hand, but with her mind.  The woman shrieked and her knees buckled beneath her.  Aeryn clung to her fiercely, feeling the woman's power drain into her, filling her….

The man turned and saw them.  His eyes widened, and, with a curse, he rushed over and pressed his hand to Aeryn's face.  But she was ready for him as well, and growled as she _yanked_ at him, a despairing joy filling her as his face turned pale.

Within instants, the two lay dead at her feet, their power drained.  Aeryn freed herself from the ropes and rushed to her parents.  For her mother, there was no hope, but as she leaned over her father, she heard the sounds of his shallow, ragged breathing.

"Daddy."  She threw her arms around him.  He coughed.

"Aeryn."  His voice was so weak.  "I'm dying, sweetheart."

"No, you aren't," she sobbed.  "You aren't.  I'll get a doctor."

"Aeryn."  His eyes turned to her, a gentle gleam glowing in the depths.  "Listen to me.  This is very important.  I don't know what you did, but you killed those two.  They are…were…very powerful mutants."  He smiled.  "What did you do?"

"What did I do?"  She pulled at his ropes, trying to get him free.  "Daddy, that doesn't matter, I just _pulled_ at their power and they keeled over, I don't know what I did, Daddy, but I'm going to get you help—"

His hand caught hers as it was freed.  "If you couldn't be a wizard, I'm glad…that you're a mutant."  He gripped her hand tightly, and he winced in pain.  "Sweetie, I'm…I can't hold on much longer."

"No, Daddy!"  Aeryn fell to her knees.

"Aeryn, listen to me."  His other hand reached for hers and caught it.  "Do to me what you did with those two.  Take my power.  You can use it."  He coughed, and blood stained his lips.  "Promise me you will do this," he gasped.  "Promise me you will go to England and find our own kind."  His breath rasped in his throat.

Aeryn's lips quivered, ready to refuse him, but she couldn't.  "I love you, Daddy," she said softly, and bowed her head.  As gently as she could, she began to _pull _at him, feeling a delicious warmth siphon through her.

Her father groaned.  Aeryn's gaze jerked up in time to watch her father's eyes roll back in his head.  She screamed his name, but it was no use.  Her father was gone.  

Kneeling on the floor, her knees wet with the blood of her mother, Aeryn began to sob uncontrollably.

*          *          *

It had not taken long for the news to disclose the lurid secrets of the murder.  A quadruple murder—two of the murdered being _mutants—_was the biggest break in many a reporter's career.  The headlines went berserk, and a statewide mutant hunt was started.

But Aeryn had left Michigan.  Gathering all the gold in her house (her father never trusted banks; all the money he had ever earned had been stashed as gold coins in the linen closet), she flew to England, letting the past die behind her.

She had been fifteen years old.  

Aeryn quickly learned everything she needed to know about her mutant powers.  She had the inborn ability to absorb, at will, another person's skills, personality, or even his or her life force.  Until she finally developed the willpower to control her power, she wore gloves, all the time.  

Her other, stolen abilities were no less powerful.  The huge man she had killed had been a telepath with amazing telekinetic powers.  For months after her arrival in England, Aeryn had nearly been discovered for levitating objects ranging from pencils to a Volkswagen beetle.  The woman had been an illusionist, and Aeryn was able to produce illusions that were startlingly realistic.

It was almost like magic.

As for her father's abilities, Aeryn had only been able to absorb the tiniest fraction of his powers.  His wand, when she held it, could produce a shower of magical sparks, but she herself did not have the ability to make a feather fly into the air.  She was magical, but only just.

Yet she still escaped to England.  It seemed the only logical thing to do.  After her arrival, she began her occupation as a cleaning lady, and she tried her hardest to forget everything she ever remembered about magic and mutants.

Five years later, she was still cleaning houses. 

*          *          *

Aeryn put her hand to the door.  She knew, as sure as she knew her name was Aeryn Blake, that cousin Harry was a wizard.  A kid, maybe, but a real wizard nonetheless.  One who was attending wizard's school, like the one her father had been invited to attend….

The front of her shirt was wet.  It wasn't until she put a hand to her face that Aeryn realized she was weeping.


	3. An Unexpected Friendship

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Friendship 

Aeryn did not see Harry on Friday when she went to the Dursleys' house to clean.  When she inquired politely as to his whereabouts, Mr. Dursley went white, then beet-red, and hemmed and hawed for several minutes before offering her another raise.  Aeryn sweetly suggested that Mr. Dursley save his money and instead take Duddy Dinkydums on an outing whenever she came over to clean.  It would save them a lot of money in the long run, she explained, because she was able to get things done so much more quickly when…er…dear little Dudley wasn't following her.

Next Tuesday, the Dursley house was empty.  Aeryn heaved a huge sigh of relief and began to clean right away.  She had just started washing the dirty breakfast dishes when there was a soft sound behind her.

"Hullo."

Aeryn whirled around, dish in hand.  Harry was standing behind her, his bright green eyes peering at her owlishly behind his glasses.  He smiled, a very small but inquisitive smile.  "My name's Harry," he said.  "Harry Potter.  Who're you?"

"Uh…hi, Harry."  Aeryn clumsily put the dish down on the countertop and wiped her hands on a dishtowel.  "Aeryn.  Aeryn Blake."  She stuck out her hand.  Harry took it and gave it a firm shake.

There was an odd silence as they stared at each other.

"Why…didn't the Dursleys take you with them?" she asked finally.

Harry shrugged.  "They didn't want me around.  Not that I mind that much."  He pushed his glasses up his nose.  

_Why ever not, _Aeryn thought wryly.

"They told me to stay in my room until they got back, but I got hungry," he confessed.  "Besides, they said they wouldn't be back until five."

Aeryn glanced at her watch; it was now a quarter past twelve.  "When did they leave?" she asked.

"About ten o'clock.  Mind if I rummage for some food?  I'll stay out of your way."

Ten o'clock!  No wonder the boy was hungry.  As she looked into his thin face, Aeryn's opinion of the Dursleys plummeted even further.  

*          *          *

"So when did they hire you?"  Harry asked between bites of his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

Aeryn was under the table, vacuuming up the crumbs from underneath Dudley's chair.  "About two weeks ago, when Dudley came home from Smelting," she said loudly.  She scooched back out and wiped a hand across her forehead.  She shuddered, remembering that first day.  It had taken her over four hours to clean the house, since Dudley insisted that Aeryn unpack his things for him.  "Where do you go to school, Harry?"

Harry looked down at his clean plate.  "Uh…." He paused for an instant.

_Wizard, _Aeryn remembered suddenly, and she ducked her head back under the table to hide the flush in her cheeks.  "Doesn't really matter where you go," she said glibly, picking at the carpet.  "Being from the States, I've probably never heard of it."

"Oh, yeah."  There was no mistaking the relief in the boy's voice.  

Aeryn crawled from under the table and got to her feet.  "Okay, Harry, I'm going to finish cleaning the house now."  She took his plate and headed for the kitchen.  "Go ahead and watch the TV or whatever."

Harry hopped out of his chair and followed her.  "Mind if I follow you around?"

She looked at him, astonished.  "You must have more interesting things to do than follow me around, Harry!"

"Not really," Harry said.  "I mean, I guess I could read my books or something, but I've been doing that ever since I got back, and none of my programs are on now."  He reached out, took the plate from her hands, and began rinsing it off.  "Besides, you talk to me.  The Dursleys don't."

Aeryn's heart melted.  How could she refuse?

*          *          *

That afternoon, Harry tagged along with Aeryn as she cleaned the first floor of number four Privet Drive.  That was how she was supposed to clean the house, first floor on Tuesdays and second floor on Fridays, but somehow on Fridays she always seemed to clean at least half of the first floor, thanks to dear little Dudley.  Not only did Harry tag along, though, but he helped her as she vacuumed floors, put away things Dudley had knocked from the shelves, and washed away any food stains on the furniture.

It was amazing how much more enjoyable the work was with someone to talk to.  After several awkward, general questions that Harry dodged very skillfully—how did he like school, had he made many friends—Aeryn discovered that Harry enjoyed sports, and they kept up a stream of conversation regarding various basketball and football teams.  Well, Harry called it football—every once in a while Aeryn slipped and said _soccer._  Obviously, wizard schools didn't keep up on such mundane topics—Harry hadn't heard anything about the games of the past year—but Aeryn was happy to fill him in.

Harry was very interested that Aeryn had lived in the States.  So, skirting around the dangerous topics of wizards, mutants, and her parents' deaths, Aeryn told him as much as she could about growing up in the suburbs of Newhaven.

After two hours of cleaning, Aeryn and Harry flopped into the gaudily flowered couch in the living room.  "Whew!"  Aeryn exclaimed.  "I'm beat."

"That was fun," Harry said with a sigh.

Aeryn looked over at him.  He grinned at her, and she laughed, putting a hand to her head.  "Gosh, kid, I sure could use you on the rest of my jobs," she said.  "I don't think I've ever talked so much while I was cleaning in my entire life."

Harry stretched his arms.  "I wish I could come with you on your jobs.  It would be better than—" He snapped his mouth shut, a guilty look spreading across his face.

Aeryn silently finished the sentence for him.  _Better than staying here._

There was an uncomfortable silence, which was finally broken by a very peeved hoot from upstairs.

"Oh, Hedwig!"  Harry got to his feet.  "That's my owl," he explained, heading for the stairs.  He paused at the rail and turned back to Aeryn.  "Would you like to see her?" he asked.

Every muscle in Aeryn's body suddenly tightened.  "Sure," she said.  

She got up from the couch and followed Harry up the stairs to the house's smallest room.  Harry pushed open the door and headed straight for the huge cage that took up most of the space in the room.  As he opened the cage door and let the snowy bird hop onto his arm, Aeryn looked quickly about the room.  She saw no sign of the huge trunk Harry had carried in on Tuesday, and his broomstick was nowhere to be found.  It looked like a plain, sparse, ordinary boy's room.

Except for the owl.  Aeryn's knees felt weak as the bird's golden eyes swiveled around to regard her.  She sat down rather suddenly on the bed

"This is Hedwig."  Harry sat down on the bed next to her, petting the owl's feathers.  "I'm not really supposed to let her out of her cage, but she feels a little cramped."  He held the bird out for Aeryn to see.  "You can pet her, if you like."

Slowly, as if she was moving through water, Aeryn reached out her hand and touched the bird's feathers.  Hedwig hooted softly.

"This is Morgana," her father said, putting the cage on the floor so Aeryn could look into the cage.  The small owl inside blinked curiously at her.  "She's only a baby right now," he explained, "but she should get to be pretty big."

_"Can I hold her?"  Aeryn asked in an awed voice.  She had never seen anything more beautiful in her life._

_"Not right now."  Her father dropped a cloth over the cage.  "It's still time for her to sleep.  We'll see about taking her out after dinner.  How 'bout we go tell Mom?"  He took his daughter's hand and smiled at her._

"Miss Blake?"

Aeryn swallowed the thick lump in her throat and drew her hand away from Hedwig.  "She's beautiful, Harry," she said, and was relived that her voice did not quaver when she said the words.

Harry put her back into the cage and shut the door.  "She's not quite awake yet.  She's still supposed to be sleeping.  She usually wakes up in the evening, after we've finished eating."

Suddenly, Aeryn found it very difficult to breathe.  She looked down at her watch, more to keep from looking at the snowy white bird than checking the time. But it was a good thing she checked.  It was nearly three o'clock, almost time for her next appointment.  She stood up regretfully.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I've got to run."  She bit her lip.  "Will the Dursleys…I mean, will you be here on Friday?"

"Probably will," Harry said, poking a finger through Hedwig's cage and scratching the bird's neck.  "That's when you'll be back?"

"Yeah."

He turned and gave her a brilliant smile.  "Guess I'll see you then," he said.  His emerald eyes glowed behind his round glasses.  "It was nice meeting you, Miss Blake.  You're really nice."

Aeryn smiled.  "I liked meeting you too, Harry."  _But right now, I have to get out of this house_….

Harry hopped down the stairs with her and got her purse for her as she straightened a few final things.  "See you Friday," he said from the doorway.

"Yep.  'Bye, Harry."

"'Bye!"  He grinned and closed the door.  Aeryn walked to her bike, feeling very light-headed.  As she rode out of the driveway, she looked towards the house.  Harry's owlish little face was pressed to the window of the living room, and he gave a cheerful wave.

Aeryn waved back, feeling—for the very first time—a bit disappointed to be leaving the Dursley house.  She shook her head slightly and she pedaled away, a smile twitching the corners of her lips. 


	4. Deceit And Discovery

**Chapter 4: Deceit and Discovery**

Friday came and went, and several weeks passed by quickly.  Before long, Aeryn couldn't believe how much she looked forward to her bi-weekly meetings with Harry.  She hadn't seen the Dursleys at all since he came to visit, and she couldn't say that fact made her sorry at all.  She had finally convinced Harry that he didn't have to help her clean, and now he watched the television or played on Dudley's computer while she put the house back in order.  For some reason, it never took quite as long as usual to finish cleaning the house, and there was always time after she was finished to spend some time with Harry before she had to run to her next job. 

She firmly promised herself that _one day_ she was going to take that kid out for some fun.  Listening to him talk, you wouldn't think the Dursleys let him do anything.  Which, come to think about it, they probably _didn't_.

She only wished she could find a way to get him to talk about his school.  He was so quiet about the subject that she assumed that the Dursleys had forbidden him to say anything about magic to anyone.  Although Harry obviously he considered Aeryn enough of a friend to enjoy her company, he apparently didn't trust her enough not to run screaming to his aunt and uncle if he told her his secret.

Not that Aeryn blamed him.  She hadn't been exactly straightforward with him either.

When Aeryn got back from her weekly karate class on Wednesday night, there was a message on her answering machine.  It was from Petunia Dursley, telling her in a very clipped voice to call her back the moment she returned home.  More than a little curious, Aeryn dialed up the Dursleys' number.

Dudley answered the phone.  "Hello?"

"Hi, Dudley, it's Aeryn Blake."

"Who?" he whined.

Aeryn rolled her eyes.  _Sure haven't missed that brat's voice._  "Your cleaning lady.  Look, Dudley, your mom wanted me to call her back.  Can I talk with her?"

_"Muuum!" _Dudley screamed, without bothering to take the phone away from his mouth.  Aeryn shot the receiver away from her ear and winced.  After nearly a minute, Mrs. Dursley decided to pick up on the other end.

"Hello?" 

Goodness, she sounds out of sorts.

"Hi, Mrs. Dursley, it's Aeryn Blake.  How are you?"

"We're leaving town tomorrow morning," Mrs. Dursley said shortly.  "We're going to holiday in Scotland for two weeks."

"Well, that sounds like—"

"While we're gone, you'll have to take care of these things for us."  And without warning, Mrs. Dursley rattled off a list of things for Aeryn to clean, repair, and accomplish.  Aeryn began frantically scribbling the list down, but her eyes soon grew wide with aggravation as Mrs. Dursley explained the correct way to polish Duddy-duddy's Smelting stick, since it was his pride and joy and be sure to only use linseed oil and—

"Mrs. Dursley."  Aeryn wasn't sure whether to laugh or snarl.  "I'm your cleaning lady.  Not your repairman.  I don't fix washing machines, and I don't weed the garden."

"I know that!" Mrs. Dursley snapped.  "I told you, I want you to _find _someone to take care of those things.  We'll refund you whatever you have to pay them."

"But—"

"And make sure the house is in _perfect _condition before we return home.  I promised Dudley a little early-birthday party with his friends when we get back, and I want the house to be spotless.  That reminds me, I want you to buy some streamers and balloons, and call the zoo and reserve the party room for—"

_"Mrs. Dursley."_ Aeryn cut through the woman's words before she was handed another load of tasks.  "Will Harry be joining you on your vacation?"

The end of the line went dead.  Aeryn almost hung up, but heard Dudley screaming about something in the background, and held on the line patiently.

When Mrs. Dursley resumed speaking, her voice was low and hoarse.  "There will be a list on the table for you when you come in tomorrow," she said.  There was a click, and then complete silence.

Aeryn replaced the receiver in the cradle, her head spinning.  Two weeks!  She was willing to bet the Dursleys weren't taking Harry with them, but she also highly doubted they would leave him alone in the house while they were away.  It was different when Aeryn came to clean, Harry had told her, because the person who usually looked after him while they were out always had bridge or poker or something at that time.  Plus, they figured he wouldn't wreck the house with someone else in it.  

Poor kid, having to stay here while his rotten cousin got to run around Scotland….

Aeryn's brow furrowed in concentration.  What was the name of the lady whom Harry usually got stuck with?  All she could remember at the moment was that she liked cats and her house smelled like cabbage.  Cabbage, cats…finally, Aeryn remembered that the woman's name was Mrs. Figg.  She grabbed the phone book and flipped through it quickly, finally locating the woman's address.  She lived only two streets away from the Dursleys.  Aeryn picked up the phone and dialed the number.

The phone rang five times before a quavery voice answered it.  "Hello?"

"Hello…Mrs. Figg?"

"This is she."

"Hi, Mrs. Figg, my name is Aeryn Blake, and I work for—"

"Oh yes, hello, Aeryn, I remember you."  

Aeryn stopped, tongue-tied.

"You were on the boat with me in Calcutta.  When we went to see the sheik."

"Oh…yes."  The old biddy was off her rocker, Aeryn decided.  Still, she decided to play along.  "Mrs. Figg, I'm actually calling because of the Dursleys—I work for them—you're taking care of Harry while they're away, right?  

"Harry, sweet boy.  He doesn't like cats much.  Pity, isn't it?"

"Pardon?"

"Do you like cats, my dear?"

"Of…course."  All of a sudden, Aeryn felt even more sorry for Harry Potter.  "Well, Mrs. Figg, I was wondering if you could do something for me…."

*          *          *

Aeryn had to rent a car and unexpectedly cancel Mrs. Malony's cleaning on Thursday morning, with the promise she would be there first thing on Friday, but it was worth all the hassle to see Harry's look of amazement and happiness when she appeared on Mrs. Figg's doorstep the next morning.

It had astonishingly easy to convince Mrs. Figg that the Dursleys actually wanted Aeryn to take care of Harry for the fortnight, although they would drop Harry off and pick him up at Mrs. Figg's house since Aeryn's flat was 'too far out of their way.'  Aeryn supposed the whole explanation sort of made an odd, twisted sense to Mrs. Figg anyway. 

Confusion crept into Harry's face as Aeryn scooped up his duffel bag and Hedwig's cage and stuffed them into her car.  "Thanks a lot, Mrs. Figg," she said to the crooked old woman on the doorstep.  

Mrs. Figg winked knowingly at Aeryn and tottered back into her house.  

"Come on, Harry," Aeryn called to him, getting into the car and starting the engine.  

"What's this for?" Harry asked as Aeryn pulled out of Mrs. Figg's driveway, narrowly missing several of the assorted cats.

Aeryn grinned at him.  "I thought I'd give you sort of a vacation.  Didn't seem fair that the Dursleys got to go off and leave you with mad old Mrs. Figg.  I somehow got the impression you don't like her house that much."

Harry grinned back, but his eyes were stunned, and he turned and looked quietly out the window.

A flicker of alarm threaded through Aeryn.  "Harry…I'm sorry, I should have asked you first, if you'd _rather_ stay with Mrs. Figg…."

"No!"  The words were instantaneous.  "No, Miss Blake, I just…." He laughed slightly.  "It's just so nice of you.  To do this for me."  He smiled again, but this time it was genuine.  "Why're you doing this for me?"

_Because I hate the Dursleys, too—because a kid like you is too young to have the same sadness in your eyes that I see when I look into a mirror—because you're a wizard, Harry, and I would give anything to be in your shoes—because your owl is snowy white and has huge golden eyes—_but she couldn't say those things to him.  Not yet.  

So, instead, she shrugged and pulled into the parking lot in front of her flat.  "Just consider me your Good Samaritan," she said, turning off the car.  "Do you mind living with me for the next few weeks, or would you rather stay at your aunt and uncle's house?"

Harry made a face.  "It's a mess over there right now.  Dudley trashed the house before he left.  No _way_ I'm staying there for two weeks."

Aeryn groaned.

"Oh, that's right, you have to clean it all…sorry 'bout that…."

"Nah, don't worry about it.  That's what they pay me for, after all."  Aeryn got out of the car and popped the trunk.  She smiled to herself as Harry took Hedwig's cage from the back seat.  "C'mon, I'm on the second floor—it's not much, but it's clean, and I've got cable and the Internet.  And a Super Nintendo."

Harry glanced upward at the complex.  "D'you have a balcony, too, Miss Blake?"

"Yep," Aeryn said.  "If you want, we could probably even let Hedwig fly around a bit tonight—no one'll think twice about an owl flying so close around here, since we're so close to the woods anyway."

Aeryn didn't know such a skinny kid could conjure up such a huge smile.

"And by the way," she added as they headed up the stairs.  "Call me Aeryn."

*          *          *

After a quick lunch, Aeryn had to run to her two cleaning jobs.  She felt a bit guilty leaving Harry alone in her flat, but he assured her he would be fine.  She finally got out the door, leaving seven different telephone numbers and feeling distinctively like a mother.  

When she returned home, Harry was playing the Legend of Zelda on the Super Nintendo, his face screwed up in serious concentration and his tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his mouth.  Aeryn had never seen anything quite so cute.

Dinner wasn't much—pizza, soda, and breadsticks—but Harry shoveled the food into his mouth as if it was going to disappear from his plate at any second.  They checked the paper for any good movies that were playing that evening, but none sounded interesting, so instead they baked chocolate-chip cookies from scratch.  Most of the dough was eaten before it got to the oven, but there was still enough for several batches.  

While the cookies baked, Harry took Hedwig out to the balcony and let her fly around.  Aeryn declined to come out with them; she had to wash the dishes, and she didn't quite trust herself to keep her composure around the bird.

Hedwig finally came back to her cage, and Harry and Aeryn ended up the evening watching late night television on the foldout couch and stuffing their stomachs with microwave popcorn.  By one in the morning, Harry had fallen asleep on the couch, and Aeryn could barely keep her eyes open.  Harry woke up long enough to toddle to the guest bedroom while Aeryn stumbled into her own room and crashed on the bed, thoroughly exhausted.

*          *          *

Aeryn quietly unlocked her flat and crept into the darkened living room.  She had gone to Mrs. Malony's house that morning at seven to clean, and the woman had run her through the gambit, obviously displeased that Aeryn had canceled yesterday.  Three hours later, Aeryn had informed Mrs. Malony that she was quitting and walked out, leaving behind a sopping wet carpet and three loads of unfinished laundry.

Aeryn sipped her jumbo-sized Diet Coke as she stepped over a plate of cookies and some scattered popcorn bags.  _Harry must still be asleep, _she thought, opening the shades and letting the brilliant sunlight stream through the windows.  It was a fantastically gorgeous day.  Once Harry woke up, they could decide on the day's agenda—perhaps a trip to the zoo, or the swimming pool.

Right now, though, she decided to straighten up the place while she had a little spare time.  Aeryn picked up the cookies and the popcorn bags and wandered into the kitchen.  She turned on the dishwasher and tossed the garbage away.  She hoped Hedwig had found enough food last night—she wasn't sure if she had any food fit for owls in her cupboard.

Still carrying her Diet Coke, Aeryn walked quietly into the living room, opened the coat closet, and hung her purse on a hook.  There was a full-length mirror on the inside of the door, a forgotten remnant of a previous tenant that Aeryn had never gotten around to removing.  Her reflection glanced at her contemplatively.  

Aeryn took a step back and looked at herself.  She really wasn't bad looking, she thought.  Not exactly beautiful—her chin was too pert and her nose a shade too pixyish—but she was pretty, and had a way of carrying herself that made people stop and look twice.  She had a good bone structure, and although she wasn't skinny, she was well built.  And voluptuous.  That she had inherited from her mother, and it was ever so difficult to find clothes that fit.  Her mahogany hair, glossy and cut just below her chin, was the same color her mother's hair had been.

But her eyes were her father's.  Aeryn could still remember when he smiled how his tanned skin crinkled around slate-blue eyes until they were merely jeweled slits.  A lump formed in her throat, and she shut the door more hastily than she had intended.

She turned, put her drink on the floor next to her, and began to make up the couch.  She folded the mattress up and tried to push it back into the seat, but the foldout had not been used for quite some time, and it got stuck halfway through its transformation.  Aeryn threw her entire weight against it, and as it finally jerked down into place, her foot hooked her jumbo Diet Coke.  The cup flew backwards, striking the television stand and exploding all over the carpet.  All over her pale yellow carpet.

"Oh _no!"_  Aeryn wailed.  The couch forgotten, she fell to her knees and looked beneath the television stand.  The lid of the cup had come off when it smashed against the stand, and all the Diet Coke had leaked beneath it, right where Aeryn couldn't reach.  It was a disaster.  Her television stand was made of wood and rested against a third of her wall.  Besides the nineteen-inch television, the stand housed videos, assorted pictures, and a potted fern named Lenny.  Of course, it didn't sit directly on top of the floor; the stand had two-inch legs that kept a perfect collecting place for dust bunnies, crumbs, and spilled drinks.  And it was heavy.  Too heavy for Aeryn to move it by hand.

She sighed and sat up.  As she watched the Diet Coke seep deeply into the carpet, a glimmer of memory crept into her mind.  Her mother dropping something that had rolled under the stove…her father taking his wand and making the stove rise up in the air…the dropped object instantly becoming retrievable….

_"Wingardium Leviosa,"_ she whispered.  That had been the spell.  Not that it mattered—Aeryn could easily move the stand with telekinesis—but instead she sent her mind questing towards her bedroom.  A dusty trunk, buried deep beneath a pile of clothes, slithered out from her closet and popped open with only a slight squeak.  Aeryn concentrated.  A slender wand rose from a thinning black robe.  She opened her hand, and an instant later, the wand flew through the corridor and landed in her palm with a snap.

Aeryn rose to her feet, holding the wand in her right hand.  

"Say it loudly, like you mean business," her father said, putting a feather on the desk.  Aeryn looked at him skeptically, holding his wand in one hand.

_"I can't do this, Daddy.  We've tried it already."_

_He grinned at her.  "You just haven't gotten the hang of it yet.  It took me a long time to get it right, too.  Now, just concentrate, and say the words I taught you, okay?"_

Aeryn's brow furrowed, and she pointed her wand directly at the feather.  Her eyes screwed up in concentration, and, drawing a deep breath….

…she focused on the television stand and murmured, _"Wingardium Leviosa."_

Nothing happened.  Her shoulders tensed, and her eyes narrowed as she brandished the wand.  _"Wingardium Leviosa," _she said, this time a bit louder.

Nothing.

Her fingers turned white against the dark wood of the wand.  _"Wingardium Leviosa!" _she yelled, bringing the wand down in a sharp slice.

The wand twisted in her fingers and spat a shower of orange sparks from its tip.

Aeryn jumped back, dropping the wand with a strangled curse.  Her cheeks were burning, and her throat was tight.  She drew a deep breath and put her hands to her face.  _Never again, _she promised herself angrily, _never again.  _What was the use of rising her hopes when every time they were dashed to pieces?

She stomped into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of paper towels, and stalked back into the living room.  With a jerk of her head, she _lifted_ the television stand from the floor until it bobbed gently up near the ceiling.  Even though she had done this often, and sometimes with larger objects, Aeryn was still amazed at the ease heavy objects could be lifted by her mind. 

She scooted underneath the levitating television stand and began to scrub at the Diet Coke stain.  Hopefully she would be able to soak most of the liquid from the carpet, and she could try some of that new stain-spray she had purchased a few days ago.  It had worked well on Mrs. Malony's white carpet, but Aeryn wasn't yet sure how well it worked on colored carpets.  She pressed a folded square of paper towel against the stain.

An amazed gasp echoed suddenly through the still living room.

Aeryn's head jerked up.

Harry Potter stood before her, his mouth gaping open as he stared at the floating television stand.  His sleep-hazy eyes were huge as he looked from her, to the stand, and back to her again.

"You…you're a _witch," _he whispered.

Totally caught off guard, Aeryn opened her mouth to say something, anything—and promptly let go of the television stand. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_I can't honestly take credit for making Aeryn a karate-learning cleaning lady.  The idea is based off the character of Lily Bard from Charlene Harris's murder series._


	5. Magic By Any Other Name

Chapter 5:  Magic By Any Other Name 

Aeryn felt the television stand slip from her grasp and threw up her hands protectively an instant before it smashed into her skull.  With a white face, she rolled from beneath the stand and let it fall gently to the ground.

"I don't believe it," Harry exclaimed as Aeryn got to her feet, trembling slightly.  He looked at her, a huge grin spreading across his face.  "Why didn't you _tell_ me you were a witch?"

"When did you get up?" she asked in a low voice.

"I heard you cast a Levitation spell and you woke me up—first I thought I was still dreaming, but then I came out here and the television was floating in the air."  He spotted the wand on the ground and picked it up, twisting it around in his fingers.  "This is _yours?"_

"Harry—"

"I'm a wizard, too—well, not exactly one just yet, I've only had one year of training, and we've just learned the basic stuff, but—why didn't you _tell _me?"

"Harry, listen to me—"

Harry's face lit up as he sliced her wand through the air.  "I have so much that I've been _dying _to talk to you about, and now that you're a—"

"Harry."  She cut through his words more sharply than she had intended.  Aeryn put a hand to her head and swallowed hard.  She couldn't look into his glowing face.  "I'm not a witch, Harry."

"What're you talking about?"  He frowned and ran a hand through his mop of jet-black hair.  "You have to be.  How else would you know _wingardium leviosa _if you're not a witch?"

_He thinks you can do magic._

The words froze in Aeryn's throat.  She had spent five years hiding her abilities to keep from being feared, but now that someone had discovered her secret…and not just anyone, a _wizard, _the reason she had fled to England in the first place…he thought she was like him, not someone to be shunned!

Harry's peered warily at her from behind his black-rimmed glasses.  

How could she explain to him that she _couldn't _perform magic, and that she was only an ordinary mutant?  Now that he felt there was a stronger bond linking them than merely dislike of the Dursleys, Harry was on the verge of finally opening up!  If she told him the truth, and he turned against her….

Even though every bone in her body screamed at her to be honest with the boy, Aeryn couldn't bring herself to break the excitement and admiration she saw streaming from his bottle-green eyes.  Swallowing the knot in her throat, Aeryn held out a hand for her wand.  "Let's go in the kitchen, Harry," she said quietly.

*          *          *

Several pots of tea later, Aeryn's head was spinning.  Harry had not stopped talking since they had sat down at the table.  His thin hands gesticulated wildly in the air as he described a complex maneuver for a game he called Quidditch.  Aeryn hadn't quite figured out exactly what it entailed, except that it was played on broomsticks and there were three different balls, but she listened hungrily to every word Harry spoke.

Now that the barrier had been broken between them, Harry couldn't tell Aeryn quickly enough about his wizarding school, Hogwarts.  To Aeryn, the place sounded like a fairy tale come to life:  amazing students and teachers,  "—Ron and Hermione, they're my best friends in the entire world, but you wouldn't _believe _how smart Hermione is, and she won't let you forget it…oh, and Hagrid, he's the greatest!" —enchanted passageways, doors that only opened by passwords, "—you have to make sure you know the password for each week, because otherwise you can't get past the paintings!" —ghosts that wandered the hallways, the owl delivery service, "—they swoop in to the Great Hall every morning to deliver packages, you just have to _see _it!" —food that appeared on plates and was magically whisked away, arcane and fascinating subjects….

Harry's excited voice spun on and on into the afternoon, weaving a multicolored tapestry that flashed and sparkled with all the desires and dreams Aeryn had ever built in her head ever since her father started teaching her magic.

Harry finally stopped talking long enough to bite into a cookie hungrily.  Aeryn drew a long, deep breath.  "Your school sounds fascinating."

"Oh, it is!"  Harry said adamantly between bites.  "How 'bout you, Aeryn?  What about your school?"

Her fingers drummed against her teacup.  "I…I never went…to a school.  Like that."

"What?"  Harry took a long swig of tea and stared at her, his brow furrowing in confusion.  "I mean—there are wizarding schools in America, aren't there?  They're all around the world!"

Aeryn shook her head.

"Then how did you learn…?"

"My father," Aeryn said.  And she proceeded to tell Harry about her father; how he had discovered he was a wizard when he was a young boy, but his parents had forbidden him to learn more about his powers, and how he honed his powers over time through mail-order books and spells, and how, when she had turned eleven, he started teaching her all he knew.

"So your parents weren't Muggles, then?"

"Pardon?"

Harry took another cookie.  "Muggles.  That's what we call non-magical people, like the Dursleys."

Aeryn grinned.  "Muggles.  I like that.  The Dursleys are pretty much as Muggle as you can get, right?"

Harry groaned and made a face.  "Are they ever!  I'm not allowed to even _breathe_ the words _magic_ while they're around."  The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window fell across his forehead and illuminated the lightning-shaped scar half-hidden beneath his bangs.  "They don't want anyone to think they're anything more than normal."

Aeryn smiled.  "Is that why they don't seem to like you much?"

He nodded.  "Aunt Petunia was my mum's sister, and she doesn't like to be reminded that she's related to 'those kinds of people,' as she says."

Something in the way Harry said _was_ caused Aeryn to stop and look at him.  He was gazing very intently into his tea.  Aeryn bit her lip and slowly traced a slim finger around the lip of her cup.  "Harry…" she said quietly.  "What happened to your parents?"

His green eyes flickered towards her, then away again.  "They died," he murmured.

A lump formed in Aeryn's throat.  "So did mine," she answered.

Harry reached a hand across the table, drumming his fingers absently against the red-and-white checkered tablecloth.  "They were killed," he said quietly.  "By someone very powerful."

Aeryn clenched her jaw and nodded carefully.  "So were mine."

Harry's eyes lifted and gazed into hers.  They didn't move for a moment.  Then Harry gave a small smile.  "Guess we're more alike then we realized, huh?" he asked, and Aeryn felt an answering smile flicker across her lips.

"Guess so," she said gently.

Harry sat back up and took a sip of tea, a normal expression returning to his face.  "So, were both your parents wizards?"

Aeryn swallowed hard.  "No, my mom was a…Muggle…but my dad was a wizard.  Or he would have been, if he'd gone to that school he'd been invited to."

Harry ran a hand through his mop of untidy hair.  "If he was born in England, the invitation must have come from Hogwarts.  That's the only wizard school here."

"I suppose so."

To her surprise, Harry stopped talking and chewed on his cookie, a pensive look spreading across his face.  Aeryn refilled her teacup and sipped the steaming liquid, starting to feel a bit better about not giving Harry the entire truth about herself.  After all, she only wanted to find out more about 'our people,' as her father had called them.  It was nice, too, to have Harry finally talk openly to her.  She couldn't deny how much she liked the kid.

Harry put down his cup and got to his feet.  "Are you going to the Dursleys' house this afternoon to clean, Aeryn?"

Aeryn winced.  For a few hours, she had completely forgotten about her boring, mundane, non-magical-non-interesting job.  She looked at her watch.  One-fifteen.  "Yeah, I guess I'd better get over there," she said, heaving herself to her feet.  She decided to leave the dishes on the table until they got back.  "The sooner I start cleaning up the mess over there, the sooner I'll be done with it."

"I don't know what's come over Aunt Petunia," Harry commented, following Aeryn as she walked into the living room and to the coat closet.  "Usually she's so tidy and makes sure everything is spotless."

"Maybe it's just too much work for her now that darling Duddy's home," Aeryn said, grabbing her purse.  "Do you want to stay here or come with me?"

"No, I'll stay here," Harry said firmly.  A pensive look had begun to creep over his face again.  Aeryn opened her mouth to comment, thought better of it, and headed for the door.

"All right then, Harry, I should be home in a few hours.  Don't get too bored, okay?"

"Don't worry about me!" Harry called cheerfully as she walked out the door.

*          *          *

Aeryn was in a less-than-satisfactory mood when she returned to her flat, having exhausted herself trying to rearrange the chaos that was number four Privet Drive.  She wasn't sure exactly how Dudley had managed to thoroughly trash every room in the house, but she had a fairly good idea brewing regarding his enormous bulk and several well-placed bombs.  Harry, on the other hand, looked exceedingly pleased with himself.  Aeryn raised a questioning eyebrow at his wide grin, but he merely looked away, whistling.

After a much-needed shower and dinner (take-out Chinese this time), Aeryn and Harry spent the remaining daylight out in the backyard of the complex, tossing a Frisbee to each other.  When twilight fell, they let Hedwig out for an evening flight and wound up the evening battling each other on Super Mario Kart until neither of them could keep their eyes open.

The weekend passed quickly.  Since Aeryn didn't work on either Saturday or Sunday, she and Harry went to the zoo, the amusement park, and the beach.  Whenever they had been somewhat by themselves, the conversation had always turned to Hogwarts and the world of magic.  Harry dragged Aeryn into the snake exhibit at the zoo and proceeded to explain to her how he had let a boa constrictor loose on Dudley that previous year.  Aeryn was thankful no snakes were turned loose during their visit—she wasn't very fond of them.  At the amusement park, Aeryn had used her mutant abilities to aid her in a few or the more profitable games, and she and Harry both left the park staggering under the weight of their assorted prizes.  

By Sunday evening, they were exhausted and sunburnt, but extremely satisfied with themselves.  Harry wouldn't stop grinning.  Aeryn didn't think he had stopped smiling since he had set foot in her flat.

The next few days were quite enjoyable for both Harry and Aeryn.  Aeryn called in sick to all her appointments for Monday, feeling only slightly guilty when her employers urged her to get some rest, since her vacation was coming up that next week.  There was no way for her to get out of cleaning up the Dursley house on Tuesday, but Harry didn't seem to mind tagging along with her.  After she unlocked the cupboard at the bottom of the stairs for him, he was able to look at his schoolbooks, and he was perfectly content to study downstairs while Aeryn flew around the rest of the house.  She even felt comfortable enough to use her telekinetic abilities to aid in her cleaning, which sped up the tasks a great deal.

Harry was perfectly content to stay inside the flat and show Aeryn his schoolbooks, and Aeryn devoured their contents with every fiber of her being.  Their titles were fascinating…_A History of Magic…Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them…Magical Theory_…. Aeryn nearly dropped _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk when she opened the book and saw the figures in the pictures _waving_ merrily at her.  Neither of them did anything Tuesday night and Wednesday afternoon except read Harry's schoolbooks—Harry scribbled essays on a huge roll of parchment with an eagle-feather quill while Aeryn curled up into a ball on the couch, her eyes flickering over the dates of magical treaties and ingredients to draughts that would allow you to breathe fire.  They were interrupted only once, when Hedwig flew into the room and landed on Harry's shoulder, hooting calmly.  Aeryn didn't remember Harry letting her out of the cage, but she had been so engrossed in the textbooks that she would have overlooked Uric the Oddball's troupe marching through her kitchen.  Harry slipped something from Hedwig's leg into his pocket, eyeing Aeryn warily as he petted Hedwig's beak, and hurried to put her back in her cage.  Aeryn merely raised an eyebrow and burrowed back into her book.

Aeryn took Harry to her karate class that evening.  Although he had grown up with the Dursleys for eleven years before going to Hogwarts, Harry had never learned any of the Muggle forms of self-defense.

"I mean, I know how to fight—somewhat," he admitted in the car.  "Dudley's group was always beating me up in school.  I never really got a chance to punch back, though."

"This should be an experience for you, then," Aeryn commented as they pulled into the parking lot of the gym.  

Aeryn's sensei, Marshall, eyed her curiously as she walked into the lesson, Harry tagging along at her heels with wide eyes.

"Isn't he a little young for you, Blake?" Marshall murmured as they bowed to each other.

Aeryn considered playfully punching him in the shoulder, but thought better of it and merely stuck her tongue out at him.  "He's my nephew, Marshall," she said as she sat down on the mat.  Harry, sitting next to her, heard her comment and shared a brief, warm smile with her before starting the stretches.

An hour later, she and Harry walked back to her car on wobbly legs.  Every muscle in Aeryn's body ached, and she could only imagine how Harry must feel.  But he didn't complain as he crawled into the passenger seat, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand and letting his body go limp against the cushions.

"What did you think?"  Aeryn asked as they drove back to her flat.

"I'm glad wizards duel with wands," Harry murmured, his eyes closed.  "Why d'you put yourself through that?"

Aeryn laughed as they pulled up to her flat.  "I guess I just want to feel protected," she said as she turned off the ignition and got out of the car.

Harry crawled out of the seat.  "But you're a witch," he said.  "You don't _need_ to rely on your physical strength to keep you safe."

Aeryn rummaged through her purse to find her keys.  "Because…." 

_Because if the anti-mutant laws are ever passed and, God forbid, I'd be forced to wear a collar that blocks me from using my mutant abilities, I've got to have some way to protect myself_….__

"It's just habit, I guess," she said finally.

Harry seemed convinced with that.

Aeryn got to her door and threaded the key into the lock.  The lock had been sticking recently, and as she jiggled the key, she determined that she would call someone about that tomorrow morning.  "So, what would you like to do this evening, Harry?"  The lock finally turned with a heavy snap, and she opened the door.  "I think there's a community basketball game playing tonight, or if you like, we could—"

She swallowed her words with a muffled gasp as she stepped into her flat and into the living room, which had been darkened before they left for class but was now flooded with light.  Her eyes snagged over Harry's books, open and scattered across the coffee table, the steaming pot of tea and plate of cookies….

…_And an intruder standing in the middle of the room._


	6. Audition For The Headmaster

Chapter 6: Audition For The Headmaster 

Still in karate mode, Aeryn dropped into a protective crouch, readying to fling the intruder against the wall if he so much as twitched in Harry's direction.

"Headmaster Dumbledore!"  Harry blurted from behind her.  

The intruder smiled.  "Mr. Potter."  He was an old man, with long silvery hair streaming to his waist, and a white beard that stretched down the front of his flowing, purple robes.  "Ten owl posts in the past six days.  I must say, I admire your determination, but don't you think Hedwig should be given a bit of a rest?"

Harry looked a bit sheepish.  "This was important, Headmaster."

"So I gathered from your enthusiastic messages."  With a wizened hand, the man motioned to the cookies and tea sitting on the table.  "Why don't you sit down, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gaped at the man for a second, but then his thin face split in a huge smile and he hopped over to the coffee table.

Aeryn, still crouched in defensive position, was looking more and more bewildered as her gaze switched from Harry, to the old man, and back to Harry again.

"Your friend appears confused," the man said, his blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon shaped glasses.

"What are you doing in my home?" Aeryn squeaked in outrage.

"Aeryn."  Harry flopped back against the couch, taking a bite of a cookie.  "Aeryn, it's okay, this is _Headmaster Dumbledore_."

The old man swept his pointed hat off his head and gave Aeryn a brief nod.  "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at your service."  Setting his hat on a cushion beside him, he sat down on Aeryn's couch and poured a steaming cup of tea.  "Your cupboards are quite tidy, Miss Blake.  I hope you don't mind that I went through them—you weren't at home and I was getting a bit hungry."

"What…." Aeryn stammered weakly.  

Albus Dumbledore bit into a cookie and gave a murmur of appreciation.  "Delicious.  I must get your recipe. But in answer to your previous question, I Apparated, of course."  Dumbledore poured another cup of tea.  "Much tidier and quicker than Floo powder, which helps if one happens to be running on a schedule."  He held the cup out to her.  "Sugar, my dear?"

Aeryn sat down quite suddenly.  Now that the adrenaline had drained from her muscles, she recognized the man sitting in front of her.  His face had been plastered throughout the later chapters of _A History of Magic_.  Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Harry's school…_a real wizard_, her mind whispered, a wizard who, according to Harry, was the greatest and most powerful wizard who had ever lived.

"Young Mr. Potter has been quite adamant about you in his letters," said Dumbledore quietly after Aeryn had taken a long, bracing sip of tea.  He held out a thick packet of parchment to her.  With only a moment's hesitation, Aeryn took the packet and began to thumb through it.  It was a stack of letters, all in Harry's bold, slightly sloppy handwriting.

_Headmaster Dumbledore, _the top letter read:

I've met a witch.  Well, not exactly a witch—she's got magical powers, but she doesn't know how to use them.  She's never attended a wizarding school—she tried to explain to me how it works in the States, but I didn't quite understand it.  Headmaster, I think she's really powerful, if she was trained in her abilities.  Do you think Hogwarts would accept a twenty-year-old first year student?

_Please owl me back._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Aeryn glared accusingly at Harry, but he had become engrossed in the dregs at the bottom of his teacup and wasn't looking at her.

"When I received Mr. Potter's first post, I was extremely busy and neglected to reply to him," Dumbledore said calmly as Aeryn ruffled through the remaining nine letters.  "I was swiftly deluged in several more letters in the same vein before I was finally able to reply."

Aeryn held up a different letter.

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_You say there has never been an entering student over eleven in all the years you've been headmaster.  Does that mean that there _never _can be an older entrance to Hogwarts, or it just hasn't happened yet?  I know I've been annoying you, but I can't help feeling that Aeryn is a special case.  I can't explain it—it's just a feeling I get.  You told me once that if anything happened to me, I should keep you informed.  Well, I think this is something.  Please owl me back._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Even though her stomach was gurgling like she had swallowed a handful of Mexican jumping beans, Aeryn couldn't help grinning at Harry's gumption.  Well, the posts certainly explained Hedwig's odd hours lately.

"Blake."  Aeryn looked over at Dumbledore.  His fingers were steepled under his long nose, and there was a musing gaze in his eyes.  "There was a Blake, many years ago, who was invited to attend Hogwarts…one of the only students who declined the invitation, if I remember correctly…Roger, I believe his name was…."

Aeryn's heart plummeted to her toes.  "That was my father," she choked, her throat dry.

Dumbledore nodded pensively.  "He could have been a very powerful wizard," he informed her quietly.

Aeryn swallowed.  "I know," she said curtly.

"So he taught you all you know."  Dumbledore reached a hand into the voluminous sleeve of his robe and pulled out a long, slender wand.  It took Aeryn a second to realize it was her father's mail-order wand, which she had never gotten around to putting away.  He held it out to Aeryn, his eyes sparkling.  "I wonder if you'd be so kind as to show me a few of the things he's taught you."

Aeryn froze.  Behind Dumbledore, Harry leaned forward on the couch, mouthing the words _do it_ to her, his thin face very serious.  Suddenly, Aeryn began to sweat.  Deceiving Harry had been one thing—that had been more accident than anything else—but trying to fool one of the most powerful wizards in history was a different story.

Aeryn smiled sickly at Dumbledore.  "Um…can you…give me a second…." 

She rose to her feet and stumbled into the kitchen, her face paling with each step.  She hurried to the sink and turned on the water, thrusting her wrists under the cool stream.  Aeryn breathed deeply, trying to calm herself.

Footsteps echoed against the kitchen tile.  "Aeryn?"

Aeryn turned with a jerk.  Harry stood behind her, concern etched across his face.  "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Why did you write to him, Harry?" Aeryn growled.  Her wet hands were trembling.

"I…."  Harry's face fell.  He swallowed, but determination burned in his eyes.  "You can do magic, Aeryn.  You don't belong in the Muggle world, and you don't have to clean houses for the rest of your life."  

His emerald-green gaze caught and held her eyes.  "Your dad was a wizard, and he wanted you to be one." He stepped towards her, his voice low but with a note of urgency that carried over the sound of the running faucet.    "This is your chance, Aeryn!"

Aeryn slumped against the countertop.  Harry was right, of course.  This _was_ her chance, finally, after five years…but all she wanted to do was run screaming from her flat.  Harry stared at her intently.  "Harry…why?" she whispered.

Harry bit his lip.  "Because you're my friend, Aeryn."  His bottle-green eyes flickered away from her, and he shrugged contritely.  "I'm sorry.  I only wanted to help you out."

Aeryn, you idiot.

He turned to go back into the living room, but Aeryn's hand shot out and grasped his wrist.  Stifling a sob, she pulled Harry towards her into a firm hug.  "No…I'm sorry, Harry.  Thank you.  Thank you."  She hoped he couldn't feel her body shaking.  She bit her lip and exhaled heavily.  "I'm just…in shock.  That's all."

Harry hugged her back tightly.  "Don't worry.  It'll be all right," he reassured her.  He pulled away, a smile returning to his face.  "Dumbledore wouldn't have come if he didn't think you were something special."

_If he only knew.  _Aeryn shut off the faucet and allowed Harry to lead her back into the living room.

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the room, running Aeryn's wand through his fingers.  Aeryn licked her lips and held out her hand for her wand, forcing herself to concentrate.  She was acutely aware of Harry's intense gaze on her.  "I'm ready, Mr. Dumbledore," she murmured.  

Dumbledore smiled and handed Aeryn her wand.  It weighed heavy as lead in her fingers, and she raised it doubtfully.

"Shall we begin, Miss Blake?"  Dumbledore picked up his pointed hat from the table.  It was also purple, like his robes, with gold and silver constellations dancing across the fabric.  He balanced it in his palms and held it out towards her.  "If you would, please, make my hat fly out of my hands."

Aeryn gulped, her palms beginning to sweat.  _You can do this, girl.  _With a deep breath, she leveled her wand at the sparkling hat.  _"Wingardim leviosa," _she commanded, questing towards it with her mind as she waved her wand slightly.

The end of her wand spat a shower of red and gold sparks, and Dumbledore's hat lifted from his hands and spun merrily in the air.  Dumbledore looked up at the hat, a smile crinkling his eyes.  He drew his own wand and murmured a word.  The hat was yanked from Aeryn's grasp and sailed back to rest gently on the table.

"Very good, Miss Blake," he said after a moment.

"Th…thanks," Aeryn mumbled.

Dumbledore picked up his now-empty teacup.  "Can you perform any transfigurations, Miss Blake?"

"Uh…sure."  But sweat was beading on her forehead.  Her father had taught Aeryn the rudimentary spells for changing one thing to another, but performing the task was a different thing entirely.

"Excellent.  Please change this teacup into a hedgehog for me."

"Sure," she said with a weak grin.  She leveled her wand, concentrating hard.  By coupling her ability to perform illusions with her power of telepathy, Aeryn was able to create amazingly real transfigurations by manipulating the minds of her watchers.  Praying it would work for a real wizard, Aeryn waved her wand.  The white teacup shimmered in Dumbledore's hands and turned into a sleepily snuffling hedgehog.  

As Dumbledore nodded slowly, Harry beamed at her.  Aeryn hastily waved her wand again and banished the illusion as Dumbledore set the hedgehog-teacup on the table.

"Well?" Harry asked Dumbledore excitedly.

Dumbledore picked up his hat and set it on his head.  He slipped his wand into his voluminous purple sleeve.  "May I have a moment alone with Miss Blake?" he asked Harry.  Harry opened his mouth, thought better of it, and scurried into the guest bedroom without a word.

"You have a very unusual grasp of magic, Miss Blake," Dumbledore said softly as soon as Harry was out of earshot.

A cold chill rushed through Aeryn's body, but Dumbledore was smiling through his half-moon glasses.

"But you do have a beginning grasp, and I can tell that your power is strong."  He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.  "I will have to consider this very carefully."

"Y…yes, sir," Aeryn stammered.

Dumbledore gave a brief bow.  "I shall send you an owl with my decision tomorrow morning.  Farewell for now, Miss Blake."

With those words and a smile, he disappeared into thin air.

Aeryn's legs folded beneath her and she tumbled to the ground.  For a moment the room was silent.  Then she began to laugh, quietly at first, and then louder and louder.

"Aeryn?"  Harry rushed into the room.  Aeryn was rolling around on the floor, giggling hysterically.  "Are you okay?" he asked doubtfully.

With a great effort, Aeryn sat up, wiping tears from her eyes.  "Yeah," she gasped.

Harry crouched down beside her.  "What did he say?"

Now that the initial rush had drained away, the weight of her deception and the workout of karate class swept a wave of exhaustion over Aeryn.  "I'll get an owl from him tomorrow," she said wearily.  With a soft grin to Harry, Aeryn heaved herself to her feet and tottered towards the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

*          *          *

Aeryn awoke the next morning to a soft hooting.  She bolted upright immediately, looking towards the window.  A small owl with a very large envelope in its beak cocked its head at her.  It fluttered from the sill, dropped the envelope into her lap, and zoomed out the window.

Aeryn rubbed the remaining sleep from her eyes and picked up the envelope.  It was thick and heavy, made of a yellowish parchment, and her name was written across the front in emerald-green ink.  She flipped the envelope over, and saw a purple wax seal with an odd coat of arms: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter _H._  Her eyes widened and she tore open the envelope.  She pulled out a letter and a yellowed packet.  With trembling hands, Aeryn unfolded the letter and read:

HOGWART'S SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster:  ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Blake:_

_After careful consideration, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Due to the extenuating circumstances of your age and magical training to date, however, we require your presence immediately at Hogwarts for preliminary testing.  _

_Please owl us back within three days to confirm your arrival date._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress _

A small slip of parchment fell from the folds of the letter.  _Very impressive, indeed.  Congratulations, Miss Blake!  -Albus Dumbledore  _

There was a bang at her bedroom door, and Harry flew into the room, scrabbling to put his glasses over his eyes.  He saw the letter in Aeryn's hands and his green eyes opened wide.  "You got it already," he gasped.  He shoved a hand through his shock of black hair.  "Is it…."  His voice trailed off expectantly.

Aeryn was unable to speak.  She turned slowly to Harry and nodded, smiling brilliantly.

With a whoop, Harry leapt onto her bed and wrapped her in a huge bear hug.  They started laughing joyfully, and Aeryn could hardly believe her good fortune.

_She was going to wizarding school._


	7. Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizard...

Chapter 7: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry 

The reason she had become a cleaning lady in the first place, Aeryn told herself, was so she could easily pack up and leave town if anything unexpected came up.  Unfortunately, simply up and leaving was much easier in theory than in reality.

She slammed the phone down in disgust as yet another of her previous employers hung up on her.  "I would have given you advance notice if _I _had been given it," she grumbled.

After the first owl had fluttered into her room bearing the acceptance letter from Hogwarts, Aeryn had gone into a frenzied preparation for her trip to the wizarding school.  She had sent an owl back to Dumbledore five minutes after his message, confirming her appearance at Hogwarts at three o' clock the following day.  Now, at one o' clock on the following day, neither she nor Harry knew how to get there.

"Have you figured out how to work that stuff yet?" Aeryn called to Harry as she rushed into her bedroom.  Her father's old trunk was packed full with several pairs of robes—long dresses, actually, they were the closest things to robes that Aeryn had in her closet—some of Harry's old schoolbooks that he said he didn't need, and her father's wand.  She couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something.

"Not yet," Harry answered.  He was pouring over one of his schoolbooks to find out the purpose of the small packet that had come with Aeryn's letter of acceptance.  They already knew it was Floo powder—according to the side of the packet, where FLOO POWDER was written in huge green letters—but beyond that, they were stumped.

After a desperate search through her trunk, Aeryn told herself firmly that if she was forgetting anything, she could probably buy it somewhere, and she shut and locked the lid.

"Will you be all right at Mrs. Figg's for a week?" she asked Harry for the fifteenth time as she dragged her trunk out into the living room.  The Dursleys weren't due back at Privet drive for five more days, and with Aeryn leaving for Hogwarts, Harry had to live somewhere.

"I don't mind," Harry answered for the fifteenth time, his scarred brow furrowing as he flipped through several more pages.  "Honestly, Aeryn, it'll be okay!  I mean, I'd rather stay here, but I'll be back at Hogwarts in about a month."

"I feel guilty leaving you," she admitted.****

Harry made a face.

"Does this dress look robeish enough?" she asked, lifting her arms and spinning around once.  She was wearing a long black tank dress.  The small white flowers dotting the fabric didn't look particularly wizardish to her, but she felt that the swirly, flowing skirt made up for the uncouth ornamentation.

Harry rolled his eyes and closed the book.  "Aeryn.  Stop worrying.  You look _fine."  He sighed and picked up the packet of Floo powder.  "Was there anything in your acceptance packet that says anything about using this stuff?"_

Aeryn picked up the envelope from the coffee table and pulled out the contents.  The only thing in it was her acceptance letter from McGonagall and the small note from Dumbledore, which slipped from the letter and fluttered to the floor.  She knelt to pick it up, and saw that the spidery green words had changed.

_Floo powder provides transportation from one fireplace to another, the note now read.  __Since you have no fireplace, I suggest you turn on one of your ranges on the stove instead.  Take a pinch of Floo powder, toss it into the flames, and say in a clear voice "Albus Dumbledore's office!"  Then step into the fire.  Best of luck, Albus Dumbledore._

Harry looked skeptical as Aeryn handed him the note.  "D'you think it'll work?"

"I don't know.  I hope so.  It'd better."

Harry shrugged and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  "Well, I trust what Dumbledore says," he said, but sounded slightly doubtful.

Aeryn felt that way too, but decided not to say anything.  They stood there for an awkward moment, looking down at the note and at the Floo powder.  "Well," Aeryn said finally, "I guess I'd better get you over to Mrs. Figg's."

They glumly loaded Harry's things into the back of the rental car, and Aeryn drove him to Mrs. Figg's house.  The crazy old lady was waiting for them, and Hedwig hooted morosely as Harry pulled her from the backseat.

"Well…'bye, Harry," Aeryn said as she handed him his duffel bag of clothes.

"You'll lock my school stuff up at the Dursleys, right?" Harry asked.

Aeryn nodded.  Now she truly felt guilty.

"Stop it," Harry said, correctly reading her expression.  "I'll be _fine."  A small grin split his face.  "Besides, I'll see you in a few weeks, right?"_

"Right."  Aeryn smiled back at him.  "Well…have a good rest of your vacation."

"Holiday," Harry corrected her, winking.  "You crazy American."

Aeryn laughed and pulled the boy into a quick hug.  "See you at Hogwarts," she murmured.  Harry gave her a final grin and lugged his things into Mrs. Figg's house.  As she drove out of the driveway, he turned and waved cheerfully.  Aeryn sighed, feeling more alone than she had in a very long time as she drove away.

*          *          *

It was a good thing she had a gas powered stove, Aeryn mused as she turned on one of the ranges.  How would she get to Hogwarts otherwise, through a bunch of candles?

The Dursleys' house was spotless once more, and it had been a simple thing to lock Harry's school things back up in the cupboard.  The only thing out of place in their house was the small letter Aeryn had left on the kitchen table stating her resignation.  She had been tempted to tell the Dursleys how she truly felt about them, but the thought of Harry reined her back, and she settled for hiding Dudley's Smelting stick underneath the couch. 

She looked once more around the kitchen.  She had already dropped the car back off at the rental station.  The flat was paid for through several months, so if anything went wrong at Hogwarts, she'd have a place to call home.  All she had to do now was leave.

Aeryn picked up the packet of Floo powder and opened it.  After a moment's hesitation, she crawled up on to the kitchen counter, heaving her trunk up after her.  Crouching on the Formica tile, she drew a pinch of powder and gingerly tossed it into the tiny range fire.

The range roared into a huge, green sheet of flame that grazed the kitchen ceiling.  Aeryn yelped, nearly falling off the counter.  After a moment, when she realized she hadn't been incinerated, she looked warily into the dancing emerald flames.  She was supposed to _step into this?_

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.  She looked down at her watch.  It was two-fifty-five exactly.

She didn't have much of a choice.  

Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the handle of her trunk.  It was pretty cramped on her small counter, and for a fleeting instant, she pictured herself curled up at the edge of the stove.  She must look ridiculous.  

Stepping into those flames was going to be a problem.  There was no room for her to stand up on the counter.  She sat on the counter for a moment, puzzled.  Hesitantly, she scooted across the Formica and stuck her feet into the flames.  They didn't burn off, so she gingerly shuffled the rest of her body onto the stove and half-stood on the range.  She nearly fell off as the stove wobbled beneath her.

Aeryn closed her eyes and shot a brief prayer to the heavens.  "Albus Dumbledore's office!" she shouted with all the courage she could muster.

It was as if the floor had suddenly disappeared from beneath her feet.  Aeryn's stomach lurched as the green flames spun around her—cold hands brushed past her face, and she flinched away—now a heavy wind buffeted her hair around her face—she closed her eyes and clutched her trunk as tightly as she could—

"Good afternoon, Miss Blake."

Aeryn opened her eyes.  She was standing in front of a fireplace in a large and beautiful circular room.  A number of curious silver instruments puffed merry little wisps of smoke from various spindle-legged tables.  Many beautiful pictures lined the walls and, with a start, Aeryn realized all the subjects in the pictures were looking curiously at her, several of them leaving their frames to whisper to their neighbors.  A decrepit-looking bird stood miserably in a golden cage next to the door, and cheeped morosely at her.  Aeryn bit her lip as five very odd-looking people, all wearing robes and milling about the chamber, turned and stared at her.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat behind a large claw-footed desk in the center of the room.  He peered at her over his half-moon glasses.  "I trust your travel went well?"

"Ah…yes."  Aeryn's stomach was still churning from the Floo experience, but she mustered up a smile and gestured over her shoulder.  "I've never traveled…" Her voice trailed off as she looked behind her at a solid stone wall.  "Er…."  Hadn't there been a fireplace behind her a few seconds ago?  She looked back at Dumbledore, her face twisted in confusion.

"I don't have a fireplace in my office, but for the purposes of transportation, I thought it would be easiest to have a temporary one installed until you arrived here."  Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked around his desk, his purple robes trailing behind him.  He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at her.  "It is a pleasure to finally have you here, Miss Blake.  Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Um," Aeryn said, her mind still puzzling over the fireplace.  

Dumbledore motioned to a severe-looking woman wearing a green robe.  Her black hair was pulled up into a tight bun and she stared unsmilingly at Aeryn through her square glasses.  "This is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration," Dumbledore said as the woman stepped forward.

"Hello," Aeryn exclaimed, setting her trunk down on the floor and sticking out a hand.  She recognized the name from her acceptance letter.

"Hello, Miss Blake," said Professor McGonagall, shaking Aeryn's hand firmly.  "I must commend you on your grasp of Transfiguration.  Being able to change an inanimate object into a living creature is a skill we don't expect from our students until their fourth year."

"Oh," Aeryn mumbled.  Professor McGonagall was quite tall, and Aeryn suddenly felt like she was back in middle school again as this take-no-nonsense witch towered over her. 

Professor McGonagall went on.  "As it said in your letter, you have been accepted into the school, but you will need to be tested by the faculty to determine what classes are suitable for you."  She smiled, a gesture that lightened her stern features considerably.  "After observing you, Albus feels you have the aptitude to be taking second-level classes.  We wouldn't want to put you with the first-years and have you relearning everything you know."

"Of course not," Aeryn agreed weakly.  But, actually, that idea didn't sound bad.  Harry was a second year student.  At least she'd have classes with him…

Professor McGonagall must have heard the uncertainty in her voice, for she raised an eyebrow and looked at Aeryn disapprovingly.  "Come now, Miss Blake, it's not quite as bad as all that."

_Oops.  Aeryn raised her hands sheepishly.  "It's just that…well, I don't really know a lot.  About magic.  I mean, I know some things, but…."_

McGonagall's face softened.  "We know, Miss Blake.  That's why you're here at Hogwarts, to learn about your magical powers."

_If I had any.…_ "So…if I don't pass these faculty tests, I won't get kicked out of Hogwarts?"  she asked hopefully.

McGonagall snorted.  "As long as you have the ability to do magic, Miss Blake, you will be allowed to study at Hogwarts."

Aeryn forced a sickly grin onto her face.  "Wonderful."

Dumbledore cleared his throat.  "We won't really be _testing you, Miss Blake," he explained.  "You'll meet with the staff over the next few weeks and take some crash courses before the school year starts." _

"So, no aptitude tests?"  This deal kept getting better and better.

"You'll have to pass the class exams before we can allow you to advance to the next level," McGonagall explained, "but Professor Dumbledore believes you should have no problem learning what you need to know."

_Oh, of course not.  It's not the learning part I have a problem with…._

 "We'll be teaching you some of the basics we expect students to know after their first year," said Professor McGonagall, stepping to Aeryn's side and presenting the circular room with a sweep of her arm.  "Professor Flitwick, our Charms professor, will help you with Beginning Spells."  She pointed to a tiny old wizard, dressed all in violet, standing near the golden birdcage.  The little man bobbed his head in Aeryn's direction, and she stifled an amused laugh.  Standing straight, Professor Flitwick barely came up to her waist.

"Professor Sprout—" McGonagall pointed to a squat little witch with flyaway hair and dirt underneath her fingernails— "will teach you Beginning Herbology."  Aeryn liked Professor Sprout instantly when the professor wiggled her fingers quickly at her and mouthed a greeting.  She also liked Sprout's patched hat.  It had lots of character.

"Our usual professor for the Care of Magical Creatures is on holiday until the semester begins," McGonagall continued, "so Hagrid, our gamekeeper, will give you a brief—"

"Hagrid!"  Aeryn blurted out, recognizing the name.

The huge man standing by the window started and peered at Aeryn in surprise.  She could barely make out his beetle-black eyes from behind his shaggy mane of hair and his tangled beard.  "Do I know yeh?" he asked doubtfully.

Aeryn shook her head, slightly ashamed at her outburst.  "No, sorry," she apologized.  "I just recognized.  Harry—Harry Potter—he's just told me a lot about you."

The giant man grinned fiercely.  "Well, now!" he boomed.  "Yeh know Harry, then?  He's a right good kid—better by half 'n those rotten Muggles he lives with."

_"Tell me about it," Aeryn agreed.  "I worked for them for two months, and I—"_

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat sharply, and Aeryn hastily swallowed her words.  

"Er—but we can talk later," Hagrid said.

McGonagall motioned to the last remaining figure in the room, a tall, thin man with oily hair, a hooked nose, and a sallow face.  "Our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will not be arriving for a few weeks, so our Potions master, Professor Snape, will be coaching you in those lessons as well as teaching you Beginning Potions."

Professor Snape glared unsmilingly at Aeryn.  Aeryn had heard a lot about Professor Snape from Harry as well, but nothing too complimentary.  According to Harry, the Potions master was a sarcastic sadist who would like nothing better than to get Harry expelled from Hogwarts.  Aeryn wasn't entirely sure how accurate Harry's judgment was, but Snape certainly wasn't going out of his way to present a friendly face to her.

Professor McGonagall nodded briefly at Snape and turned back to look at Aeryn.  "I will be teaching you Transfiguration and some beginning Magical Theory and History."

Dumbledore raised a bushy white eyebrow.  "Is Professor Binns indisposed?" he asked dryly.

Professor Binns was Harry's most boring teacher.  Apparently he had gotten up to teach one morning, not realizing he had left his body behind in an armchair in the staff room.  He had continued teaching ever since, and his class was drier than the Sahara Desert.  He sounded a lot like Aeryn's old math teacher in seventh grade.

McGonagall shook her head.  "I thought it would be more beneficial for Miss Blake to stay awake for her pre-class training."

Aeryn's mouth opened slightly in surprise, and her estimation of Professor McGonagall went up several notches.  Taking advantage of the lapse in conversation, Hagrid winked at her from across the room.  Aeryn grinned back at him, the knot of nervousness in her stomach starting to dissolve.

"For the rest of the day, we'll let you wander around Hogwarts to get yourself acquainted with the surroundings." McGonagall straightened her glasses.  "Tomorrow morning at breakfast I will give you a complete schedule for your next few weeks."  She strode over to the door of the chamber, her green robes trailing gracefully behind her.  "If you'll just follow me, Miss Blake, I'll show you to your temporary chambers."

Aeryn wordlessly picked up her trunk and followed Professor McGonagall from the circular room.  Dumbledore smiled knowingly at her as she passed him, and the decrepit bird cheeped weakly from its golden cage.  But she could feel the cold stare of Professor Snape boring into the back of her head as she stepped from the room and into the stone corridor.

McGonagall led Aeryn through an intricate trail of winding hallways, long corridors, and twisting turns that seemed to go on forever.  Aeryn hurried along at the professor's heels, gaping in astonishment at the opulent decorations lining the walls.  Flaming torches lit their way along the hallways, and carved gargoyles leered from shadowy corners.  Aeryn tried not to jump when they passed a line of ancient armor and every helmet turned to watch her pass.  

After leading her up a rickety staircase, Professor McGonagall finally stopped in front of a huge painting of a very large woman wearing a pink silk dress.  "Haddock sandwich," she said matter-of-factly, tapping on the gilt frame.

"If you say so, Professor," the Fat Lady murmured, and the frame swung open to reveal a doorway.  Aeryn stepped through after McGonagall, trying not to feel self-conscious as the Fat Lady cast a curious eye over her clothes and whispered, "Lovely robe, my dear.  Is it Muggle-made?"

Aeryn entered into a comfortable sitting room.  There was a huge fireplace and large, comfortable chairs scattered everywhere.  Everything in the room was decorated in a pattern of red and gold.  Over the fireplace hung a scarlet banner with the symbol of a lion etched upon it in sparkling gold paint.

"This is the common room of Gryffindor Tower," Professor McGonagall explained, walking over to another door and opening up yet another stairway.  "There are four Houses here at Hogwarts; Gryffindor—"

"Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Aeryn finished.  She had the pleasure of seeing McGonagall blink in surprise behind her square-rimmed glasses.

"I take it Mr. Potter has been briefing you on life here at Hogwarts."

"Sorta," Aeryn commented, looking around the room.  The Gryffindor common room was warm and inviting.  She could only imagine how noisy it must get after a roaring Quidditch victory for Gryffindor.

"Once the semester begins, you will be placed in one of the Houses, but for now you will be staying in Gryffindor."  Professor McGonagall motioned for Aeryn to follow her, and Aeryn lugged her trunk up yet another flight of stairs until they reached a bedroom lined with four-poster beds.  Aeryn dropped her trunk at the foot of one of the beds, and noticed the trimmings were also scarlet-and-gold.

_They sure pick a theme and stay with it.  _

"Dinner will be served at five-thirty in the Great Hall," McGonagall said, walking to the door.  "Would you like me to come back and retrieve you at that time?  The castle can be difficult to navigate, especially for one who hasn't been here before."

Aeryn almost shook her head to refuse, but thought better of it at the last minute.  It would be just her luck that she would take a wrong turn and wind up in the depths of the dungeons with some troll for company.  "That would be great, if you don't mind."

Professor McGonagall nodded, and the tiniest smile ghosted across her lips.  "I'll allow you to get situated, Miss Blake."  She walked from the room and shut the door.

Aeryn sat down on the bed.  There was a huge picture window on the opposite wall, and from the bed she could see rolling green fields and a crystalline blue sky.  Now that she was finally here, the nervousness was fading away and excitement was taking its place.  If she could convince these teachers that she really belonged here—and if she could pass her tests—she'd be a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  

_Hey, Dad, she thought as she ran a hand through the filmy drapes of her four-poster bed.  __Guess what?  I did it…I'm finally here._

_Hope I don't disappoint you….___

Aeryn got up and knelt down at the foot of her bed, opening her trunk and rummaging through to find Harry's old schoolbooks.  She did have a few hours until dinner.  Time to brush up on a few things magical before meeting the professors again.


	8. Enter Gilderoy Lockhart

**Chapter 8: Enter Gilderoy Lockhart**

Aeryn adapted into Hogwarts surprisingly well, figuring out how to navigate the winding corridors with little or no help from the myriad of castle paintings and resident ghosts.  She preferred it that way, especially after a particularly nasty episode when she was hurrying from Transfiguration to Charms and asked Peeves the Poltergeist for directions.  Five minutes afterward, she had found herself in the very depths of the Hogwarts dungeons, and was forced to wait until the Fat Friar came sailing by to help her climb her way out.  Luckily, Professor Flitwick had understood, but Aeryn had made it a point to stay as far away from Peeves as humanly possible from that point on.

Still, Aeryn couldn't deny how wonderful Hogwarts was.  Every corner of the place oozed with magic, from the subtly shifting tapestries that showed a different pastoral scene every time she passed to the ancient rusting armor that creaked and squeaked greetings to her, from the ephemeral ghosts that passed her in the halls to the giant squid living in the moat surrounding the castle.  Everywhere she turned, the heritage of magic-users from days past—_her _heritage, now and forever, never mind that she wasn't exactly a witch—surrounded her.  It was a dream come true.

Classes, however, required a bit more concentration than Aeryn had anticipated.  In order to keep McGonagall from becoming suspicious in Transfigurations, Aeryn pretended to struggle through changing matches into needles.  When she was supposed to change a teapot into a tortoise, Aeryn made her turtle breathe steam and have a china-blue patterned shell, even though a simple illusion would have created a perfect transfiguration.  Even after these mistakes, Professor McGonagall felt Aeryn's talent was far beyond her years, and decided, after a week, that Aeryn was ready to take the pre-exam for Transfiguration.  Changing a mouse into a snuffbox was extraordinarily simple, and Aeryn passed with flying colors.  

The same thing happened in Charms.  For Aeryn, 'casting' spells in Charms class was twice as hard as 'changing' objects in Transfiguration.  While Transfiguration relied solely upon her ability to trick the teacher's mind with an illusion, Charms forced her to actually produce the effect of the 'spell' on Professor Flitwick.  In order to do that, Aeryn had to use her telepathic powers to get into Flitwick's mind and cause him to react in very specific ways.  Although she was careful never to read the professor's thoughts—that was the only power she refused to exercise with her talent—meddling with his view on reality made her very uncomfortable and unsure.  She almost slipped completely when she cast a Laughing Charm on him and almost made him start reciting Walt Whitman poetry instead.  It was a matter of sheer concentration, and after every Charms class, Aeryn stumbled back into Gryffindor Tower with a splitting headache and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.  It was a relief when Professor Flitwick finally decided that Aeryn had caught up with the first year coursework.  For her pre-exam, Aeryn made a pineapple tap-dance across his desk, and left the room feeling quite proud of herself.

With the two true magic courses out of the way, Aeryn was able to store her mutant powers away for a while and concentrate on classes that involved more on practicality.  Magical Theory and History was boring, but Aeryn found it almost relaxing to copy down dates and notes while McGonagall explained the invention of self-stirring cauldrons and the Werewolf Uprising of 1673.  Now that she wasn't in Charms anymore, Professor Flitwick took Aeryn to the towers late at night and taught her some rudimentary Astronomy.  Aeryn had already taken some Astronomy in her middle school, and was able to follow the course of the planets and stars with relative ease.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout coached Aeryn how to tend magical plants like Mandrakes and Venomous Tentacula.  Plants that moved and shrieked like live animals were a bit of an adjustment, but Aeryn caught the hang of it quickly and soon was transplanting wriggling flowers from one pot to another as if she had been doing it all her life.  Professor Sprout was fun to work with, too.  She treated Aeryn more like a little sister than a student, and after lessons would brew odd-smelling pots of tea and they would play wizard chess together.  Aeryn usually lost, mainly because the chess pieces all had minds of their own and wouldn't do what she said, but it was a nice break from studying.

Care of Magical Creatures was Aeryn's easiest class by far.  Once Hagrid found out about Aeryn's friendship with Harry, their classes consisted of eating homemade treacle fudge and gossiping over scalding cups of tea in his small hut.  The closest Aeryn ever got to magical creatures was when Fang, Hagrid's huge black boarhound, drooled on her knee, but every so often Hagrid would share stories involving some dangerous creature he had raised as pet.

"Eh, yeh shoulda seen Norbert when he was a baby, Aeryn," Hagrid said one afternoon, his beetle-black eyes misting over.  "Cutest lil' tyke he was!  An' such a sweet dragon…." He blew his nose loudly.  Aeryn, who had already heard about Norbert from Harry but with a slightly differing opinion of the lil' tyke, nodded sympathetically.  But all things considered, she could tell that she and Hagrid would become great friends over the course of the year.

Professor Snape was a totally different matter altogether.

The Potions classroom was in one of the dungeons, and was cold, with a damp chill that crept into your lungs and made you cough.  The room was lined with pickled animals floating in jars, and Aeryn had to try very hard not to look at them.  The first day of class, Aeryn had taken a wrong turn to the dungeons, and ended up running into the room fifteen minutes late, her hair in disarray and her cheeks flushed from running.  Professor Snape was waiting, and the shriveling look he cast upon her was even colder than the air.

"Let us get one thing straight, Miss Blake," he hissed once she sat down, trying to catch her breath.  He placed his long fingers on her desk and leaned over until his face was bare inches away from hers.  "It matters very little to me that Dumbledore has taken you under his wing and allowed you to attend Hogwarts.  If the choice had been up to me, you would not be here."  His black eyes were blistering, empty and dark as a winding tunnel.  "But, as our Headmaster obviously has his reasons for accepting you as a student, I shall be teaching you the subtle and delicate art of potion-making.  If you think some foolish wand-waving will help you pass this class, let me squash that hope immediately.  A potion is a work of art, and I expect nothing less than perfection."  

Snape had then set her to work preparing a simple potion to cure boils.  Fortunately, the years of having a fuming housewife breathing down her neck while she tried to scrub red wine stains from a white Berber carpet had blessed Aeryn with a cool head and a steady hand, and she had prepared the potion without spilling so much as a porcupine quill.

"Wipe that smug look off your face and sit back down," had been Snape's only words after she had successfully completed her brewing.  For the rest of the class, he had bombarded her with the names and variants of the fifty most essential ingredients used in making potions.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, which directly followed her Potions lesson, was no better.  Aeryn had frantically taken notes as Snape paced the room, lecturing about vampires and the many different ways to ward them off.

"You're going too fast," she complained finally as a third sheet of scribbled notes slipped from her desk to the floor.

"Use better shorthand, then," he snapped, and resumed his lecture.  Aeryn stumbled from the dungeon an hour later, her hand cramped, head spinning, and her legs like jelly.

The relationship had gone downhill from there.  Snape could always find something wrong with Aeryn's technique, whether it was that her mandrake roots were not chopped finely enough or that her Forgetfulness Potion was a _shade_ too dark.  Eventually, Aeryn found it easiest not to say anything at all, lest he blister her with his scathing, sarcastic comments.

"He's a big, bullying git," Aeryn told Hagrid furiously one afternoon.

Hagrid chewed solemnly on a piece of cake and shook his great head.  "Well, Professor Snape's not exactly friendly, but he's got a good heart."

"What heart," Aeryn grumbled into her mug of tea.

Hagrid gave her a disapproving glare.  "C'mon now, Aeryn.  Give 'im a chance."

"Whatever."  But now that she was free from the confines of the dungeon, Aeryn felt a smile returning to her face, even as Fang slobbered all over her knee.

*          *          *

"Professor Snape?"

Aeryn hesitantly pushed open the door of the Potions classroom.  The room was empty save for the pickled animals bobbing along the walls.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Aeryn slipped into the room and hurried over to her cauldron, a loaner from Professor McGonagall since she had been unable to shop for her own yet.  It was a half-hour before her Potions lesson with Snape, and Aeryn wanted all the time possible to prepare for today's lesson.  She was supposed to be making a particularly complicated Sleeping Potion this afternoon, and had found a book in the library that explained the process simply and without commenting on her intelligence.  Aeryn pulled the book from under her arm and sat down on the floor, opening to the section on Sleeping Potions.

_Only a week and a half more of this, _she told herself, _and then school starts.  Real school.  Not this one-on-one torture.  _She couldn't wait for the rest of the students to arrive at Hogwarts.  She missed Harry, and she couldn't wait to meet Ron and Hermione, his two best friends.  Just that morning at breakfast, Hedwig had flown into the Great Hall and dropped a letter on Aeryn's lap.  It was from Harry.

_Dear Aeryn, _the letter read:

_I'm staying with the Weasleys for the rest of the summer—Ron and his brothers rescued me from the Dursleys shortly after they arrived back from holiday _(good for Ron, Aeryn thought).  _How's the testing going at Hogwarts?  What do you think of everyone so far?  Ron and Hermione and I are going to Diagon Alley on Wednesday to buy our school things.  Can you make it then?  I'd love to see you there.  Hagrid would be happy to take you, I'm sure.  Owl me back and let me know if it'll work.  Hope to see you soon!_

_Love,_

Harry 

"O' course I'll take yeh!"  Hagrid had boomed after seeing the letter.  "Yeh need teh be gettin' yer school things anyways—got a lot teh git, seein' how it's yer first year 'n all."  McGonagall gave Aeryn permission to skip her classes on Wednesday and promised to give her the list of supplies she would need.

But it was only Tuesday, and Aeryn still had to slough through the three-hour block of Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  

Aeryn was rereading the section on how to finely mince the three tablespoons of monkshood when the door of the dungeon creaked open.  Aeryn hastily slammed the book shut and kicked it underneath her cauldron.  

"Afternoon, Professor Snape," she exclaimed, bracing herself for the expected blast of sarcasm from Snape's mouth.  She rose to her feet, turned around, and her jaw dropped in surprise as she saw a man standing in the middle of the room who was most definitely _not_ Professor Snape.

The wizard flashed a set of dazzling-white teeth at Aeryn and winked.  He was _very _good looking, dressed in a pair of forget-me-not blue robes that matched his eyes, and a pointed hat set at a jaunty angle upon his wavy blond hair.  "A very good guess, my dear girl, but quite incorrect," he exclaimed merrily.  

"Ah…hello," Aeryn said after a moment.

"Although I must say, I suppose I should get used to being called Professor, shouldn't I?"  The wizard spread his hands with a flourish and smiled expectantly at Aeryn.

Aeryn looked at him, puzzled.

The handsome wizard raised an eyebrow.  "I see you are stunned at actually meeting me in person.  How delightful!  Not entirely unusual…once I managed to cause a whole village of witches to faint at my appearance!"

"What?"  Aeryn was now quite confused.

The blue-robed wizard stepped forward, peering over Aeryn's shoulder.  "Preparing for Potions!  Ah, I see you've been doing a bit of light reading…you should read my _Gadding with Ghouls, _you know, there's a very nice passage in there about me brewing a love potion for a lonely banshee…."

"Who _are _you?"  Aeryn asked, stepping backward. 

His grin was blinding.  "Oh, you can hardly think clearly, can you?  My presence sometimes does that to people."  He nodded his head, striking a pose.  "Perhaps I can help jog your memory?  Winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming Smile Award five times in a row?"

Aeryn gaped at him, dumbstruck.

"No?  Perhaps some of my works then.  _Magical Me?  Year of the Yeti?"  _He was advancing towards her rather quickly, and Aeryn stumbled against her cauldron as she tried to avoid him.  _"Traveling with Trolls?  Wanderings with Werewolves?"_

Aeryn's foot slipped beneath her and, with a squeak, she toppled over onto her back.

"Now, my dear, there's no need to fall at my feet!  Please get up!"  The man bent down and proffered his hand to Aeryn, who very nobly did not flinch away.  "Gilderoy Lockhart is nothing if not modest!  You make me blush with your devotion, you really do!"

"Modest?"  Aeryn gasped as he pulled her to her feet.  "I—"

"You must be the young lady Professor Dumbledore told me about," Gilderoy Lockhart interrupted her, putting an arm around her shoulders.  "Imagine, a girl your age unable to attend wizarding school until now!  How very fortunate that Albus took pity on you and decided to admit you, even at your advanced age!"

"I—"

"And of course, I will do everything in my power to make sure you are prepared before you start classes this year," Lockhart went on, peering into her empty cauldron.  "Now, what were you so engrossed in doing before I so flabbergasted you with my appearance?"

"I—Potions class—studying—" Aeryn mumbled, trying to break free of Lockhart's grasp.  Where, oh where was Professor Snape?  Aeryn shot a frantic look towards the door, but her head shot back around as Lockhart drew her book from beneath the cauldron and flipped through the pages.

"Ah, yes, you would be working on Sleeping Potions now," he murmured, using his wand to turn to the page Aeryn had last been studying.  He glanced down at the directions, gave a small laugh, and tossed the book across the room.  "Well, Sleeping Potions happen to be one of my specialties!  One time, when I was in Bulgaria—"

"I—Professor Snape—my teacher—" Aeryn said despairingly as Lockhart waved his wand merrily and a bundle of bottles appeared on the table beside her cauldron.  

"Now, let's see…ah yes, a pinch of this, and a dash of that…."  With a flourish, Gilderoy Lockhart rolled up his sleeves and began to add ingredients to Aeryn's cauldron.  A flicker of flame spat at the bottom of her cauldron and began to heat the ingredients.

"You know," Aeryn exclaimed hastily as Lockhart added a handful of crushed scarab beetles, "Professor Snape is teaching me Potions, and I'm not really sure if he'd like you to—"

"My dear, Severus will be more than happy when he discovers I have taught you this potion," Lockhart reassured her, dropping a spoonful of newt eyes into the cauldron.  Aeryn winced as the liquid inside turned bright chartreuse and a foul stench filled the air.  "He's quite a character, don't you think?"  The mixture inside Aeryn's cauldron began to bubble ominously, but Lockhart paid no attention as he stuck his wand tip into the mixture and gave a quick stir.

"Mr. Lockhart, sir," Aeryn began, backing away slightly as her cauldron began to rock back and forth.

Gilderoy Lockhart screwed his handsome face into a scowl and reached for a bottle of powdered wormwood.  "_Professor, _my dear, after all, I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year…or didn't you know that?"

_"What?"_ Aeryn shrieked.

Lockhart unscrewed the powdered wormwood and dumped half the bottle into the cauldron.  Aeryn's cauldron halted, shook once, and _burped.  _Aeryn's eyes went wide as the metal slowly began to turn a bright red.

"Odd," Lockhart said, frowning at the cauldron.  "It shouldn't be doing that."

Aeryn opened her mouth to comment, but was suddenly hurled to the ground as a black-cloaked figure flung itself on top of her.  A shout ricocheted through the air, and the glowing cauldron flew through the air a nanosecond before it erupted with a _brrrouuup.  _Aeryn instinctively flung up a protective telekinetic shield as the cauldron's glowing contents splattered all around her.  The remains of the cauldron clanged against the opposite wall and collapsed with a hiss against the floor.

Gasping for breath, Aeryn drew herself up on one arm in time to see Professor Snape grab the stunned Gilderoy Lockhart by the throat and slam him against a nearby desk.  As Lockhart struggled, Snape easily pinned his wand hand to his side.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"  Snape snarled.

"S-S-Sev," Lockheart stammered weakly, forcing a sickly smile onto his lips as he reached up to clench the hand around his throat.  "Why—what a pleasant surprise—"

"Asthe school's Potions master, my presence should hardly be a surprise, Lockhart."  Snape's coal-black eyes narrowed and his hand tightened slightly on Lockhart's throat.  

Lockhart coughed.  "I was—I was merely instructing—this young lady—"

"You _never _combine crushed scarab beetles and powdered wormwood in a Sleeping Draught!"  Snape hissed, thrusting his hooked nose directly into Lockhart's face.  "_Never!  _The mixture combines into a liquid powerful enough to eat the flesh from your bones!"

Lockhart squeaked.

Aeryn looked down at the ground.  All around the edges of her telekinetic shield were steaming pockets where the liquid had hit the ground.  She shivered.

"Professor Dumbledore—" Lockhart's voice was choked— "Dumbledore said that—I was supposed to teach—"

"Miss Blake's Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons are not until two-thirty," Snape interrupted, the words drawn from between his clenched teeth.  "May I add, _Professor Lockhart_, that I have been in charge of Miss Blake's education up to now, and see no reason to turn her over to you until the beginning of the school year."

"Dumbledore said—" Lockhart began.

Snape's fingers clamped even tighter around Lockhart's neck.  "_Headmaster _Dumbledore has given me specific instructions to finish Miss Blake's first-year education, and that is what I intend to do."

"Really—Severus—" Even in its choked state, Lockhart's voice was haughty.  "I think—being the hired professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts—if you've ever read my books—you would agree—"

Snape pushed down on Lockhart's neck, cutting off the handsome wizard's speech in mid-sentence.  "Don't give me that, Lockhart," he spat, his voice dangerously soft.

Lockhart clawed at Snape's hand.  "Sev—"

"I know the truth behind those books," the Potions master whispered into the struggling wizard's ear.

"I never—I don't know—"

"Two words, Lockhart," Snape hissed.  _"Memory.  Charm."_

Lockhart's forget-me-not-blue eyes popped wide and he ceased struggling for a moment.

"Yes," purred Snape.  "You understand, don't you?"

Lockhart gurgled, pulling at Snape's hand.

"Stay out of my business, _Professor Lockhart, _and we'll get along just fine," Snape murmured, his fingers locked across Lockhart's throat.

"Sev—let me go—"

Snape's black eyes flashed fire.  "Miss Blake's education for the rest of the summer is my business, Lockhart," he stated firmly.  "And remember, for as long as you teach here at Hogwarts, _I, _Severus Snape, am the Potions master."

"I—"

_"Swear it!"  _Snape snarled, his lip curling.

"I—swear—it—" Lockhart choked, his face turning a brilliant purple.

"That'll do," Snape said casually, and released Lockhart's throat.  The handsome wizard crumpled against the desk, coughing violently as the Potions master stepped away from him, his sallow face impassive.

"Miss Blake."  Snape turned to Aeryn.  "Are you all right?"

Aeryn, frozen to the floor, nodded once.  She opened her mouth to thank the professor, but stopped as he stepped beside her and glared down, his eyes catching and pinning her.  

"You are never to prepare a potion in this classroom without my permission," he said softly. 

Aeryn shrank back against the stone tiles.  "Professor, I—"

"If you ever again disobey my rules, Miss Blake, I shall have you expelled from Hogwarts before you can blink."  Snape's lips firmed into a thin line of displeasure.  "Now.  After you clean up this mess you have made, we will begin our lesson."  He turned on his heel and stalked to his desk, his black robes billowing out behind him.

Aeryn struggled to her feet, her head reeling.  With unsure steps, she walked over to the opposite side of the room, drawing her wand as she avoided the still sizzling spots where the failed Sleeping Draught had fallen.

"Professor Lockhart."  Snape's voice was cold as he curled over the papers at his desk.  "Leave my classroom."

Lockhart, still crumpled on the floor, climbed to his feet.  He coughed twice and stumbled towards the door, the imprint of Snape's fingers purple on his throat.  Aeryn chanced to look up as Lockhart reached the classroom, and the sight that met her eyes stilled her fingers.  Then the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor slammed the dungeon door.

Snape raised his eyes from a curling parchment and fixed Aeryn with a stare.  "Continue, Miss Blake," he snapped.

Aeryn hurriedly began levitating the scraps of her ruined cauldron from the floor, but the sight of Gilderoy Lockhart's face, twisted into a mask of pure and horrible hate as he glared at Snape, burned vividly in the back of her mind. 


	9. Diagon Alley

**Chapter 9: Diagon Alley**

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

Aeryn, her stomach still churning slightly from the Floo powder, stared around her in amazement as she and Hagrid stepped through the archway behind the Leaky Cauldron and onto the cobbled street that was Diagon Alley.  All around her bustled witches and wizards carrying bags from the Apothecary and dragging cauldrons along after them.  Aeryn heard a soft hooting sound on her left and turned to a sign that read EELYLOPS OWL EMPORIUM—TAWNY, SCREECH, BARN, BROWN, AND SNOWY.

"Firs' things firs'," Hagrid said firmly, steering Aeryn down the street.  "We gotta get yer money changed."  

"Aahm," Aeryn agreed absently.  

Before entering into Diagon Alley, Aeryn had hurried to a nearby Bank of England and withdrawn five hundred pounds from her savings.  It was a lot of money, she knew, but she wasn't sure how much wizarding supplies would cost, and Hagrid was no help.  "Muggle money's no good, Aeryn," he told her.  "Gold 'n silver's the only currency I know.  Once yeh get it changed, then I can let yeh know if it's enough."  

She fervently hoped supplies wouldn't cost more than she had withdrawn.

As they trotted down Diagon Alley, her eyes refused to be drawn away from the fascinating shops lining the street.  Shops piled high with quills and parchment, shops selling robes and telescopes and broomsticks, and the _people, _hundreds of people wearing robes and chatting excitedly to each other about spells and familiars and gossip—"I just read in the _Daily Prophet _that there's been another sighting by Muggles, that's the second time this month, I tell you, the Ministry of Magic has got its hands full—" Aeryn hardly noticed where Hagrid was dragging her until they halted in front of a snowy white building that towered over the other shops.

"Gringotts," Hagrid said in explanation as he led Aeryn up the white steps.  Aeryn only had a second to gawk at the scarlet-and-gold cloaked figure standing beside the burnished bronze doors before they pushed through them, then through a pair of silver doors, until she and Hagrid stood in a long marble hallway.

"What was that?" Aeryn whispered.  

"A goblin."  Hagrid led her up to the marble counter that lined the hallway, behind which sat hundreds of goblins, all scribbling in books, weighing gold in little bronze scales, and ushering robed figures into a multitude of doors.  "Gringott's run by 'em, and it's the safest place yeh'll find—got teh be, since it's the _only _wizards bank here in England."

The goblin sitting at the desk peered at Aeryn over a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles.  "Yes?"  he asked in a low, gravely voice that sounded too big for his diminutive frame.

"Ah," Aeryn mumbled, suddenly tongue-tied.  With clumsy fingers, she placed the five hundred pounds on the marble counter.  "I need to…change my money…."

The goblin's eyes gleamed as he picked up the notes with long, spindly fingers.  "It will be just a moment," he informed her, and slipped off his stool and hurried into one of the numerous doors behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, Hagrid and Aeryn walked out of the snowy white building.  "Blimey, Aeryn!"  Hagrid exclaimed as she doubtfully fingered the bulging moneybag at her waist.  "Yeh must've got sixty Galleons in there."

"Sixty-two Galleons, ten Sickles, and six Knuts, to be exact," Aeryn corrected.  She couldn't believe the exchange rate for wizarding money.  _That's got to be…what…eight pounds to one Galleon?  Insane!  _"Is that going to be enough?"

"Unless yer plannin' on buying all your books bound in gold and written on boomslang skin," Hagrid said, shrugging.  "Yeah, yeh'll have plenty fer the rest o' the school year."

Aeryn felt a little better.  She stopped in the middle of the street, bouncing the moneybag in her hand and looking around her musingly.  Now that she was ready to shop, she wasn't sure where to start.  All around her, the magical wares called to her temptingly.  It was going to be a challenge not to spend all her money—shopping had always been one of her downfalls.

"What's the list say?"  Hagrid asked her after a moment.

Aeryn dug in her pocket for the folded scrap of parchment Professor McGonagall had given her that morning.  She read:

_UNIFORM:_

_Three sets of plain work robes (black)_ _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_ _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_ _One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_All clothes should carry nametags_

_(But I don't want to wear a nametag_, Aeryn thought.)

_COURSE BOOKS:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 – Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic – Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory – Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration – Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi – Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions – Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them – Newt Scamander_

_Break with a Banshee – Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Gadding with Ghouls – Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Holidays with Hags – Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Travels with Trolls – Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Voyages with Vampires – Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Wanderings with Werewolves – Gilderoy Lockhart_

_Year with the Yeti – Gilderoy Lockhart_

_(His entire set of books!  The…the…_egotism_ of it all!  _she thought.)

OTHER EQUIPMENT 

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_You may bring an owl OR cat OR toad_

"Well…I _think _yeh'll have enough money fer the year," Hagrid said after running an eye down the parchment, but his tone was slightly doubtful.

Aeryn shrugged and put the list back in her pocket.  "I guess I'll get started," she said, looking around for a robe shop.

"If yer wantin' teh get yer uniform, better go teh Madam Malkin's Robes fer All Occasions."  Hagrid nodded to a shop on their far left.  "Listen…I gotta get some things fer the gardens, an' then maybe slip into the Leaky Cauldron…d'yeh mind?"

Aeryn shook her head and waved him away.  "Have fun, Hagrid.  Meet me back here in an hour?"  

"Sure."  The giant grinned at her and disappeared into the crowd of people thronging the street.  Bracing her shoulders and crossing her fingers, Aeryn pushed open the door of Madame Malkin's shop.

*          *          *

Purchasing her hat, gloves, and winter cloak had been easy, but the standard-issue work robes for Hogwarts students made Aeryn look two feet tall and four feet wide.  Madame Malkin was a short, squat witch with an overwhelmingly amicable personality, and understood Aeryn's predicament immediately.  She tore through her back storeroom, and eventually found Aeryn three pairs of black robes that were actually quite flattering, though non-standard issue.  In the process of finding black robes, however, Aeryn saw several beautiful robes she just _couldn't _live without, never mind they were colored and several were _very _fancy.  She staggered from the shop an hour later, her moneybag nearly forty Galleons lighter, but an extremely satisfied smile upon her face.

She didn't see Hagrid when she left the shop.  After waiting around for him for fifteen minutes, Aeryn ducked into some nearby stores and purchased her cauldron, phials, brass scales, and telescope.  Hagrid _still _wasn't there when she finished those purchases, so she wandered over to Eelyops and stared at the owls.  The temptation to buy an owl was quite strong, especially when a very tiny owl the size of a tennis ball twittered at her from behind the bars of its cage, but Aeryn swallowed the urge.

She was poking her fingers through the cage of a sleepy-looking barn owl and was wondering whether she should go down to the Leaky Cauldron and find Hagrid when a familiar voice split over the roar of the crowd.

"Aeryn!" 

Aeryn whirled around.  Harry Potter was pushing through the crowds of people, his thin face lit up with a huge smile.  Aeryn leapt to her feet and rushed towards him.  She almost tripped on the cobblestones, but finally reached him and wrapped him in a huge bear hug.  
  


"Harry!"  They pulled away, and Aeryn ran a quick eye over him.  "How are you doing?  When did you get here?"

"I've been here for about an hour," Harry said, holding up a strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice cream.  "As for getting here…."  He rolled his eyes and raised a knowing eyebrow at Aeryn.  "Floo powder.  Not for the weak of heart."

"Or stomach," Aeryn agreed.  "I take it you didn't have a great experience."

Harry made a face.  "Somehow I got the words muddled and I ended up a few streets down in _Knockturn Alley."  _He shuddered and shook his head.  "Don't go there.  Ever."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, if Hagrid hadn't found me in there, I think an old hag was going to steal me away and boil me up for lunch.  Oh, by the way, Hagrid told me to tell you, if I saw you, that he'd meet you at the Leaky Cauldron when you were finished shopping."

Hagrid.  Aeryn sighed.  "Well, I'm glad you got here okay.  Are the Weasleys treating you okay?"

"It's _wonderful _with the Weasleys," Harry exclaimed, pushing his glasses up on his nose.  "How are you?  What do you think of Hogwarts?"

"Hey, Harry!"  Aeryn looked over Harry's shoulder and saw a boy with flaming red hair pushing his way through the street.  "Wait up, will ya?"  

"Honestly, Harry," said a girl with bushy brown hair, appearing at Harry's side with a slightly peeved look on her face.  "If you expect us to keep up with you, don't go running off into the crowd without a warning.  Oh—" she suddenly saw Aeryn, and her voice faltered.  "Hullo."

"Hi," Aeryn answered.

Harry grabbed her hand and motioned to the other two.  "Ron and Hermione, meet Aeryn Blake," he said in introduction.  Immediately, their faces lit up in recognition.

"Oh, how d'you do?" cried Hermione, sticking out her hand.  "Harry's told me a lot about you—is it true that you only just discovered you had magical powers?  That's absolutely _fascinating—_I've read of a few instances happening, but they've all been ages ago!"

"Ah—" Aeryn said.

"Harry's told me the _coolest _things about you," Ron said, his eyes lighting up.  "Is it true that you've got a car and—what are those things called—a com-pewter?"__

"I—"

Harry glanced disbelievingly at Aeryn's packages scattered on the ground around them.  "Aeryn, how much have you _bought?"_

"Not enough," Aeryn gasped, grabbing hold of the last question.  "I still have to get my schoolbooks, and there's a whole lot of them."

"Tell me about it."  Ron made a face.  "We've got to buy the whole collection of that Gilderoy Lockhart's works.  Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a witch, that's all I have to say."

Hermione harrumphed.

"Er…." Aeryn decided not to spoil the surprise for them.

"Well, we've still got to get our books, too," Harry said.  "C'mon, Flourish and Blotts is only a little ways away…we can all get them together."

They started pushing their way through the crowded streets, and Harry started explaining why he was living with the Weasleys.  "Ron, Fred, and George rescued me from the Dursleys house a few days after I left your house."  He looked around quickly, then leaned in and spoke to her in a quieter voice.  "The Dursleys have been really rotten.  They found out I wasn't allowed to do magic over the holidays 'cause a house-elf levitated one of Aunt Petunia's puddings—but anyway, that's all taken care of now." 

"You have a house-elf?" Aeryn asked, puzzled.

"No—well, it's complicated.  I'll explain later."

_I think there's going to be a lot of that, Aeryn thought to herself.  Finally, they reached Flourish and Blotts, but they were by no means the only people in the bookshop.  The place was teeming with witches, all about forty years old or so, jostling outside the doors and trying to get in._

"Look!" squealed Hermione.  Stretched across the upper windows of the bookstore was a large banner, which read:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will be signing copies of his autobiography

MAGICAL ME 

today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.

"Oh no," Aeryn groaned as they pushed into the bookstore.  Avoiding the sea of toes to step on, Aeryn extricated herself from Harry and his friends and waded over to the shelves for her other books.  As she pulled a copy of _A History of Magic from the shelves, she heard a rippling of applause as Lockhart waded into the crowd._

_Don't look up, she told herself, searching for __The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2._

"It _can't be Harry Potter!"_

Aeryn paused at the sound of Lockhart's too-familiar voice.  How did Lockhart know Harry?  She almost turned towards them out of curiosity, but the thought of Lockhart calling "it _can't be Aeryn Blake!" across Flourish and Blotts made her cringe, so instead she ducked her head and tried to ignore him as he started talking, concentrating instead on gathering her books._

"—announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd roared.  Aeryn, staggering under the weight of fourteen books, shoved her way over to the counter.  A very harassed-looking wizard glared at her.  "Is that_ all _you need?" he asked sarcastically.

Aeryn glared right back at him.  She hated crowds, was starting to feel claustrophobic, and her sides ached from being jabbed by elbows.  "Don't give me that," she snapped.  "How much?"

The wizard muttered something under his breath.

"How much?" Aeryn repeated.

"Eleven Galleons, three Sickles," the wizard grumbled.

"You're _kidding!  _That's highway robbery!"

The wizard sighed.  "Do you want your books or not, missy?"

Aeryn gritted her teeth and dug into her moneybag.

There was a sudden thud of metal from across the room.  Aeryn whirled around, still fuming over the price of the books, and ducked as a spellbook sailed over her head.  Two men were brawling on the floor.  The crowd was stampeding, and bookshelves were tumbling left and right.  

"Get him, Dad!" she heard Ron yell.

Aeryn shouldered her way through the crowd towards the disturbance.  Another spellbook flew towards Aeryn's nose, and she batted it aside with a telekinetic shield.  She looked around wildly for Harry, and found him shrinking against the wall, standing next to Hermione, Ron, and three or four other flame-haired people whom she assumed must be Ron's family.  She tried to maneuver her way over to them, but was flung aside as the two brawling men rolled her way.

"Break it up there, gents, break it up—"

Hagrid waded through the sea of books, and, in an instant, he had pulled apart the two fighters.  One of the men was pale-faced with icy-gray eyes and was nursing the beginnings of a black eye; the other had red hair, was very obviously Ron's father, and had a bleeding lip.  The gray-eyed man was holding a very battered Transfiguration book, which he thrust into the hands of a small red-haired girl standing against the wall.

"Here, girl—take your book—it's the best your father can give you—" He pulled himself out of Hagrid's grip and stalked from the shop, followed closely by a smirking boy with as similar pale face and an equally nasty expression.

Now that the ruckus had been resolved, the customers of Flourish and Blotts turned uninterestedly away from the small clump over by the wall. Aeryn stepped daintily over a pile of upturned books.  "Hey, Hagrid," she greeted her enormous friend.  "I've been waiting for you.  Where've you been?"

"'Lo, Aeryn," Hagrid boomed as he straightened the red-haired man's robes.  "Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," he said in a lower voice to the man.

"What happened?" Aeryn asked Harry curiously.  Both Ron's and Hermione's faces were twisted in outrage.

"Draco Malfoy's dad insulted my parents," Hermione said tightly.

"And then Dad jumped him," Ron growled, but there was pride on his face.

Aeryn recognized the name.  Harry had told her enough about Draco Malfoy for her to dislike him as much as she disliked the Dursleys.  It sounded as if his father was no better than him.

Harry waved a hand weakly around them.  "Aeryn, these are the Weasleys.  Over here—" But there was no time for introductions as the entire group was suddenly bustled out the door by a fuming, slightly plump woman who began fiercely lecturing Ron's father.  Aeryn ran along after them, wondering how much more excitement she was going to have to put up with this afternoon.

"A _fine _example to set for your children," sniffed Ron's mother as they hurried along the street.  Her husband looked positively sheepish.  "_Brawling _in public…_what _Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought…."

Harry trotted along beside Aeryn and pointed to the woman.  "That's Mrs. Weasley," he began.  The woman turned sharply on her heel at her name, a fierce glare in her eye.  Aeryn backed up quickly, nearly stepping on Hermione.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Aeryn squeaked.  Fortunately, the fierce light in Mrs. Weasley's eyes was erased instantly as realization lit her face.

"You must be Aeryn Blake," she said, nodding to Aeryn.  "Harry's told us a lot about you, dear.  We appreciate all you've done to help him—honestly, those people he lives with…."  She shook her head, and in the next instant, turned back around and began haranguing her husband again.

"And that's Mr. Weasley," Harry continued, pointing to Ron's father.  "Those two over there—the twins—they're Fred and George, and that other one on the side, that's Percy—and that girl there, that's Ron's little sister, Ginny."  Aeryn decided that the Weasleys looked like a very nice family—that is, as long as Mrs. Weasley wasn't lecturing you.  

Harry pointed to two adults walking beside Hermione.  "That's Mr. and Mrs. Granger.  They're Muggles—Hermione's their only daughter, and it was a big surprise when they found out she was a witch."

Aeryn nodded to them.  They looked scared out of their wits.

The group hurried along Diagon Alley until they reached the Leaky Cauldron.  "Does everyone have everything?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking around at the multitude of packages.

Aeryn realized with a start that she had left all her purchases in Flourish and Blotts.  

"Are you leaving already?" she asked Harry, feeling slightly hurt.  They had barely spent any time together, and now he was leaving.

"Guess so," Harry said, watching as Mrs. Weasley ushered the Weasley children into the pub.  He shrugged and hoisted his packages over his shoulder.  "I guess I'll see you in a week, then?"

"I guess," Aeryn murmured.  Harry, hearing the disappointment in her voice, gave her a quick hug and a smile.

"We'll have lots of time to catch up at Hogwarts," he told her.  "I'll see you there!  Bye!"

"Bye," Aeryn exclaimed, waving to him as he disappeared into the interior of the Leaky Cauldron.  She sighed, then turned around and hurried back towards Flourish and Blotts, hoping fervently that her purchases were still there and had not wandered away.

Hagrid was waiting for her when she burst through the door.

"Yeh left these," he commented, holding out his giant arms filled with packages.  Aeryn took them from him thankfully, staggering slightly under their weight.

Hagrid tilted his head as Aeryn's ankle bobbled and she almost toppled over.  "Yeh need help?"

"No," Aeryn grunted, pulling her wand from her sleeve.  With a clumsy wave, her packages rose into the air.  "There.  That's better."

Hagrid opened the door for her.  "If yeh've got everything yeh need, we can stop at the Leaky Cauldron for somethin' to drink before we head back to Hogwarts."

They headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.  The pub was small and dark, but there was a pleasing ambiance that permeated the place and swept over you as soon as you walked through the door.  Aeryn and Hagrid squeezed into a corner table, putting Aeryn's packages next to them on the floor.

"The usual, Hagrid?" called the bartender from behind the counter.  Hagrid walked up to the counter to order, and Aeryn leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes.  Her feet ached, and all this fresh air was making her tired.  She looked around the pub.  It wasn't very crowded.  Every once in a while, a group of wizards would walk through and throw some Floo powder into the fireplace.

Hagrid came back to the table and plunked a mug of something in front of Aeryn.  Aeryn lifted it and sipped absently, not really tasting it, as she watched a family of four wizards, all squabbling, step into the fireplace and disappear.  She wondered idly if Harry had returned to the Weasleys' house without problems.  She also wondered what had eventually happened to Gilderoy Lockhart—she hadn't seen him when she went back to Flourish and Blotts.

"Knut for your thoughts," Hagrid commented after a moment.

Aeryn smiled, setting her mug down.  "Sorry, Hagrid," she said, smiling at him.  "I guess I'm not really talkative right now.  Shopping sorta wore me out."

Hagrid grunted and took a draw from his mug.  "S'all right.  Yeh don't have to talk if yeh don't want to."

Aeryn drummed her fingers on the table for a moment, her eyes pensive.  "Hagrid?" she asked finally.

"Yeah?"

"How does Professor Lockhart know Harry?"  She frowned slightly.  "I mean, Lockhart didn't teach at Hogwarts last year, and I didn't think Harry knew any wizards before he went to school."

Hagrid set his mug down, his beetle-black eyes opening slightly in surprise.  "Blimey, yeh mean Harry hasn't told yeh?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Told me what?"  Aeryn asked curiously.

Hagrid shook his head.  "Modest little chap," he muttered, half to himself.  "I can't believe yeh don't know yet, yeh bein' such friends wi' him 'n all!"  And, leaning across the table, Hagrid began to tell Aeryn about Harry Potter—The Boy Who Lived.

When he was just a baby, a very powerful wizard—"_Lord Voldemort_," whispered Hagrid with a horrible shudder, "an' don't make me say the name again!"—had attacked Harry's family.  Harry's mother and father had been killed, but Harry had miraculously survived, and the attack had left a zigzagging scar across his forehead.  The attack had recoiled back upon the wizard, incapacitating him, and Harry was known throughout the wizarding world as The Boy Who Lived, the boy who had been the downfall of Voldemort—or You-Know-Who, as Hagrid insisted on calling him.  

But that was not the entire story.  Last year at Hogwarts, Harry had again come face to face with Voldemort.  Harry had defeated him for the second time, but in the process had killed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had been serving as a host body for the Dark Lord.  As Hagrid told her the entire story, Aeryn's eyes grew wider and wider with each sentence.

The gamekeeper finished and took a long drink from his mug.  Aeryn slumped back in her chair.  "Good heavens," she said weakly.

"Sure is somethin' isn't it?"  Hagrid said, pushing back his chair.  "Now, don't yeh be treatin' Harry any differently now that yeh've found out about this—he don't much like bein' treated like some celebrity."

"I won't," Aeryn promised.  She couldn't believe how modest Harry was over his fame.  There he was, the most famous person in the entire wizarding world—one just _said _his name, and a hush fell over the room—and he didn't even _mention _it to her!

_Well, think about it…do you go bragging around how you defeated two enormously powerful mutants?  _Aeryn asked herself.  _Besides…just think…instead of quiet Harry Potter, he could be a second Gilderoy Lockhart_….

The thought was enough to make her skin crawl.

Hagrid burped and stood up.  "C'mon, we should be getting' back to Hogwarts."  He picked up some of Aeryn's packages and headed for the fireplace.  "Yeh've got exams comin' up this next week, an' yeh'll need to get studyin'."

Aeryn levitated the rest of her packages and toddled over to the fireplace.  Hagrid tossed a handful of Floo powder onto the flames and walked into the fireplace, booming "Hogwarts!" as loud as he could.  Aeryn stepped in behind him, murmuring her destination in a slightly more muted tone, her mind mulling over all the surprising discoveries of the afternoon. 


	10. Prelude To The End Of The Game

**Chapter 10: Prelude to the End of the Game**

Back at Hogwarts, Aeryn threw herself into her studies.  She also got a chance to break in several of her new robes, eliciting a variety of responses from the staff.  Professor McGonagall had raised an eyebrow at an off-the-shoulder scarlet robe thickly embroidered across the bodice with gold thread, but merely commented that should the Sorting Hat place her in Gryffindor, she would have perfect dress robes.  Gilderoy Lockhart—whom she _always _seemed to run into whenever she turned a corner, no matter how hard she tried to avoid him—loudly praised her new wardrobe, especially her flowing jewel-blue robe dotted with silver studs—"my favorite color," he gushed—but after looking at his garish robes, Aeryn wasn't sure how much she wanted to value his fashion judgment.

With only a week left before the students returned, the school was bustling with last-minute preparations.  Classrooms were cleaned, the Great Hall was polished from ceiling to floor, and the teachers organized their course lists one final time…or, as in Professor Sprout's case, several times.  During her final Herbology classes, the little witch was more concerned getting her judgment on the course load than grading her star charts.  The hallways of Hogwarts were suddenly teeming with ghosts, all of them jabbering excitedly to each other and the paintings…Aeryn had to admit, for inanimate objects and dead people, they were all rather…well…_lively.  _The excitement was beginning to affect her as well; she found she was anxiously looking forward for the students to join her.

No matter how much she was ready for the semester to begin, the final round of exams came far too quickly for Aeryn.  The Monday before the students arrived, Aeryn sweated through her Magical Theory and History exam, breaking two quills and nearly upsetting her inkstand before she finally rolled up her parchment and dropped it on McGonagall's desk.  "Don't worry, Miss Blake," the deputy headmistress called reassuringly after her as Aeryn staggered out the classroom door, "I highly doubt you'll flunk out of Hogwarts over one exam."

_I wouldn't count on that, _Aeryn thought grumpily.

Tuesday was her Herbology exam, which was easier than she had anticipated.  Professor Sprout gave Aeryn an essay question on the eating habits of several carnivorous plants, and then she transplanted some Mandrakes that Professor Sprout had just received.  The professor explained to Aeryn that, for the beginning of the semester, the second years would be responsible for caring for these dangerous but highly useful plants.

Wednesday was the Care of Magical Creatures exam, or in other words, a free day for Aeryn.  She helped Hagrid de-slug the cabbages in the garden, and spent the rest of the day cramming for her Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts exams.  They weren't until Friday and Saturday, respectively, but Aeryn was already dreading the impossible feats Snape would inevitably hurl towards her.  She spent Thursday in a daze, by some miracle making it through her Astronomy exam without thinking about the seven different ways to tell a werewolf from a regular wolf.

Friday, as she had expected, was hell.  Her task for the Potions exam was to prepare a Forgetfulness potion.  It took a great deal of concentration not to flinch as Snape paced around her as she prepared the ingredients, breathing down her neck from time to time to make some sarcastic comment.  By the end of the two-hour period, Aeryn was a nervous wreck, but had prepared a flawless potion.   There was a definite look of disappointment on Snape's face as she climbed from the dungeon, wiping her brow on the sleeve of her robe.

She awoke Saturday morning to a brilliant summer morning and a sinking pit in her stomach.  _Come on, girl.  One more exam, and then you're done.  Then, tomorrow, Harry and his friends are coming.  Think about that.  _She dragged herself to the Great Hall for a bit of breakfast, which she barely tasted as she ran over her notes for Defense Against the Dark Arts.  After several hours of last-minute cramming, Aeryn clomped down the stairs to Snape's dungeon to take her final exam.

Snape glowered at her as she entered, a sure sign that she had passed her Potions exam.  Without a word to him, Aeryn pulled out a roll of parchment and her quill.  The essay question was already on her desk, and with a prayer and a deep breath, she started writing.

She was halfway through the exam when the dungeon door burst open and Gilderoy Lockhart, resplendent in violet robes and carrying a tray of drinks, fluttered into the room.  "Good afternoon, Severus," he exclaimed, ignoring the snarl that sprang to the Potions Master's face, and setting down his tray on an empty desk.  He looked over at Aeryn and winked, rubbing his hands together.  "Last exam, eh, Miss Blake?"

"Yes," Aeryn said tightly, scratching furiously on her parchment.

"Excellent!  Well, I don't want to bother you—" _Too late for that, _Aeryn thought as she laid down her quill and massaged her hand "—but I thought, in celebration of the beginning of the school year, I would share with you some of my world-famous homemade butterbeer!"  With a brilliant smile, Lockhart offered a steaming goblet to Snape.

Snape looked at Lockhart as if he had just offered him a cup of bubotuber pus.  Lockhart ignored the glare and placed the goblet on Snape's desk.  "And how about you, Miss Blake?"  Without waiting for her response, Lockhart handed Aeryn another goblet.  Not knowing what else to do, she took it from his hands and sniffed the contents.  

Lockhart picked up the remaining goblet from the tray and raised it.  "Cheers, Miss Blake," he cried, clinking his cup against hers.  After a moment, Aeryn shrugged and took a sip of the liquid.  Surprisingly, it was fairly decent, warm and buttery and sliding down her throat like liquid silk.

"Well?" Lockhart asked, beaming at Aeryn.  "The recipe's of my own make—of course, the Leaky Cauldron and hundreds of other pubs are _banging _at my door to get the ingredients from me, but I won't sell them—can't let them know all my secrets, eh?"

"It's very good," Aeryn commented, handing him back the empty goblet and picking up her quill. 

Lockhart looked sadly over at Snape.  "Severus, old man, you haven't touched your butterbeer yet."

Snape's coal-black eyes glowered at him.  "If I drink it," he hissed, "will you get out of my classroom?"

"Certainly, Severus."  Lockhart placed his goblet on the tray and smiled brilliantly at Aeryn.  "Miss Blake has to finish her exam before the students come tomorrow, after all!  Well, go on, my friend, drink it down!"

Snape grabbed the goblet from the corner of his desk and tossed the contents down his throat in one sharp motion.  He swallowed, grimacing slightly, and handed the goblet back to Lockhart without looking at him.

"Thank you, Sev!" Lockhart exclaimed cheerfully, taking the goblet from the Potions master.  With a comradely wink to Aeryn, he turned and slipped from the dungeons, whistling cheerfully.

Rolling her eyes, Aeryn began writing again.  The room fell silent except for the scratching of her quill against the parchment.  After a half an hour, Aeryn scribbled the conclusion of her essay, punctuated it with a flourish, and sat back in her chair with a sigh.

"Finished already, Miss Blake?" asked Professor Snape, but for the first time, Aeryn heard no sarcasm in his voice.

Aeryn did not answer, but merely gathered up her quill and inkwell, and carried her roll of parchment to Snape's desk.  He was shuffling through some papers on his desk.  Without a word, Aeryn gently laid her essay on his desk.

As she turned to go, Snape's hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.  The professor's head lifted and his empty black eyes flickered across her form.  After a moment, the faintest ghost of a smile flickered the corner of his lips, and he gently released her wrist.

"You will get your grades tomorrow," he said, his voice cold and emotionless, and he curled slowly back over his desk.  "Best of luck, Miss Blake."  

Aeryn ran a hand reflexively over her wrist.  Professor Snape did not stir from his desk, nor did he look at her again.  After a moment, she shrugged and exited the dungeons, relieved that her exams were finally over, but unable to shake off the sudden uncertainty that had crept into her mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The title of this chapter comes from the Sting song of the same name on his 'Brand New Day' album._


	11. The Sorting Hat

Chapter 11: The Sorting Hat 

"Hagrid," Aeryn asked as they stood on Hogwarts' tiny, dark train platform, "why do I have to be here?"

"Because," Hagrid answered, swinging the lamp in his hand, "yeh've gotta get Sorted into a House, jus' like all the firs' years."

"Couldn't I just have waited for them at Hogwarts?"  Aeryn chafed her arms, shivering in the cold night air.  She wished, fleetingly, that she had remembered to bring her outdoor cloak.

Hagrid grinned.  "What, and miss the traditional hike of the firs' years to Hogwarts?  Nah, yeh've gotta experience that once in yer lifetime."

The Hogwarts Express was due to arrive any minute now, but it couldn't get there quickly enough for Aeryn.  That morning at Hogwarts had been frantic, as ghosts and teachers and house-elves raced around the castle, making sure everything was perfect before the huge banquet that evening, and Aeryn had become quite lost in the bustle.  After Aeryn hounded Professor McGonagall for nearly half an hour, the deputy headmistress finally gave Aeryn her exam grades.  To Aeryn's delight and surprise, she had passed all of her classes with flying colors—and, most surprisingly, had received perfect scores in both Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  She was now officially a second year—or would be, once she was sorted into a House.

Aeryn checked her watch for the eleventh time and sighed, hopping from one foot to another.  She turned to ask Hagrid if she could hold the lantern until the train arrived, just to keep her hands warm, and found the giant regarding her with a mixture of appreciation and disapproval.  He blushed as he saw her looking at him.

"What?" she asked.

Hagrid coughed.  "Yer…um…yer not wearin' yer school blacks," he mumbled.

"Yes, I am."  McGonagall had firmly told Aeryn that she was to wear a black robe to the Sorting Ceremony that evening, so that she wouldn't stick out among the first years any more than she had to.  Aeryn spread her arms and looked down at her robe.  Granted, the clinging bodice and waist were not standard-issue, and the low, square neckline edged with black beads was even less so, but her flared sleeves and skirt flowed gracefully around her with the slightest movement just like everyone else's robe, and that was good enough for Aeryn.  Besides, she didn't have any standard school robes.

"Don't I look okay?" she asked Hagrid mischievously, spreading her arms so he could see her robe.

"Yeah, yeh look great," Hagrid commented hastily, tearing his eyes away from Aeryn's bodice.  "I mean, yeh look fine, but…um…."  He suddenly found his lantern very captivating indeed and fell silent.

Aeryn grinned.  "Thanks, Hagrid."

In the distance, a whistle blew.  Aeryn looked down the track and saw the Hogwarts Express chugging slowly towards the platform.  It slowed down and finally stopped, and the door burst open and a sea of black-robed students jostled out onto the platform.  Excited conversation echoed in the air, and Aeryn pressed closely to Hagrid to keep from being swept away.  Hagrid held his lantern high over the heads of the students.  "Firs' years!  Firs' years over here!" he boomed, and soon a gathering of small, white-faced students surrounded him.

"Hagrid!  Aeryn!"

Hermione Granger pushed through the crowd of students and ran up to Aeryn, her face pinched with worry.   

"What is it, Hermione?" Aeryn asked, immediately concerned.

"It's Ron and Harry," she gasped.  "They weren't at platform nine-and-three-quarters—they didn't get on the Hogwarts Express—they aren't here, how are they going to get here, something must have happened to them!"

"Easy, sweetie," Aeryn exclaimed, putting her hands on Hermione's shoulders.  But she chewed on the edge of her lip.  She knew that Harry would never have missed the Hogwarts Express unless something enormous had come up.  She pushed her worry to the back of her mind and looked into Hermione's eyes.  "Hermione, is there any other way they could get here?"

"Um."  The brown-haired girl thought a moment.  "I suppose they could use—Floo powder or something—but they _said _they were going to be on the Hogwarts Express, they _told _me!"

"Okay, okay," Aeryn said soothingly.  

"What's the matter?" Hagrid asked, overhearing the conversation.

"Hagrid," Hermione said, looking pleadingly up at the huge man.  "Harry and Ron weren't on the train!"

"Are yeh sure?"  Hagrid looked skeptical.

"Yes!"  Hermione looked ready to cry.

Aeryn patted the girl on the arm.  "Okay, Hermione, don't worry.  I'm sure Harry and Ron will get here in time for the banquet."  When the girl started to protest, Aeryn shushed her.  "Listen, if they aren't there by the ceremony, go get Professor McGonagall or one of the other teachers and tell them what happened, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione said doubtfully.

Aeryn gave her a quick hug.  "I'm sure that wherever those two are, they're fine," she reassured the girl.  "See you at the banquet, hon."

"Yeah."  Hermione gave her a small smile.  "Best of luck in the Sorting!"

"Thanks," Aeryn said, and Hermione sprinted away.  Hagrid was already leading the first years down a steep, narrow path, and Aeryn quickly fell into line.  No one said much as they slipped and slid down the dark pathway, and Aeryn grumpily chastised herself for not wearing her tennis shoes.

There was a gasp of amazement as the path opened onto the edge of a great black lake.  Even Aeryn was impressed by the cold, clear view of Hogwarts sparkling atop a high mountain on the other side.  Hagrid pointed to a fleet of small boats on the edge of the lake.  "No more 'n four to a boat!" he cried.  

Aeryn climbed into a boat and found herself joined by Ginny Weasley and two trembling, mousy-faced boys who looked as if they were twins.  Aeryn and Ginny shared a brief, acknowledging smile as the fleet rowed silently across the lake into a dark tunnel that seemed to be going right underneath the castle.  They finally reached an underground harbor, and climbed out onto the rocky shore and up a passageway that opened up onto the front steps of the castle.

After a quick glance to make sure everyone was there, Hagrid led the group up the steps and banged three times on the heavy oak door.

The door swung open and Professor McGonagall stood there, looking twice as stern as ever.  Aeryn heard several of the first years gulp.

"Firs' years, Professor," Hagrid said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Hagrid.  I will take them from here," she said soberly, and pulled the door open wide.  Hagrid winked quickly at Aeryn and as first years hesitantly followed McGonagall into the castle and through a long stone hallway.  Aeryn looked over at Ginny Weasley as they made their way into a small, empty chamber off the corner of the Great Hall.  The poor girl looked petrified.  After a moment, Aeryn held her hand out to her.  As the rest of the first years squeezed into the room, Ginny quickly slipped her hand into Aeryn's and held it tightly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said.  "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses.  The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts.  You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.  Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards.  While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points.  At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor.  I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school.  I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."  Her eyes snagged over several of the first years, who began pawing at their hair and straightening their cloaks.  McGonagall looked over at Aeryn and raised an eyebrow at her unorthodox robe, but did not deign to comment.  "I shall return when we are ready for you," she told them.  "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber, and a joint sigh echoed through the room.  The first years stood where they were, nervously shuffling their feet and a few mumbling to themselves under their breaths.  Even Aeryn felt a bit anxious.  She hadn't realized that being Sorted was going to be such a big production.

Suddenly, Ginny gave a squeak and gripped Aeryn's hand hard enough to make her wince.  She wasn't the only one.  A few screams echoed through the chamber as about twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall, talking to one another.

"Hi, Nick," Aeryn said as a ghost wearing a ruff and tights floated by her.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porptington, otherwise known as Nearly-Headless Nick and the resident ghost of Gryffindor tower, stopped and grinned at her.  "Aeryn!  And the first years!  About to be Sorted, I suppose."

"Yep."  She tried to ignore the pain shooting through her hand as Ginny tightened her grip.

"Hope to see you in my House," he exclaimed.  He cast a ghostly eye across her robe and nodded appraisingly.  "Lovely school blacks, by the way."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice.  "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

The ghosts waved cheerfully as the first years formed into a single-file line and walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.  Aeryn, still holding Ginny's hand, drew in a breath of admiration as they entered the Hall.  Hundreds of students stared at them, their faces pale in the flickering candlelight of thousands of candles floating in midair over four long tables.  The tables were lined with golden plates and goblets.  The ceiling, which Aeryn knew was enchanted to look like the sky outside, was black and dotted with stars.  Professor McGonagall led the first years up to the front of the Hall, facing the other students with their backs to the teachers.

McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years.  On top of the stool she set a frayed, patched, and extremely dirty wizard's hat.  Aeryn looked at it disbelievingly.  _This _was the Sorting Hat she had heard so much about?  She snuck a look at the other first years, and noticed she wasn't the only one unimpressed.  Then, a rip near the brim of the hat opened like a mouth, and the hat began to _sing:_

_"There is a phrase from years gone by_

_That's always true and tried:_

_You cannot judge on looks alone_

_To see what's deep inside!_

_Though I am old and battered through_

_And almost worn apart,_

_Place me on your head, and I will see_

_What's deep inside your heart!_

_The four founders of Hogwarts School_

_Are now laid out to rest—_

_Now only I can truly know_

_Which House suits you the best!_

_Would you be placed in Gryffindor _

_For bravery and might?_

_Would you belong in Hufflepuff_

_For loyalty and right?_

_Does Ravenclaw suit you the best,_

_Where sharp minds are the rule?_

_Or would you be in Slytherin_

_Where cunning is your tool?_

_But who knows best, and which is right?_

_Do not feel any dread!_

_For I am Hogwarts' Sorting Hat,_

_Just place me on your head!"_

The hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song.  It bowed to each of the four tables and then became still again.

Aeryn gulped as Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.  If the hat could see inside her heart and tell which House in which she belonged, could it also tell whether or not she had magical powers?  And what would happen if it discovered she was really a mutant?  Would it let out a scream?  Would it laugh and exclaim loudly to everyone in the hall that she was a fraud?

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," McGonagall said.  "Answorth, Meghan!"

A black-haired girl with huge eyes tripped out of line, put on the hat, and sat down on the stool.  The hat fell right over her eyes.  After a moment's pause—

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

The table on the left cheered loudly, and Meghan went to sit down at the Ravenclaw table.  Aeryn clenched her teeth as Professor McGonagall went down the list, and several more students joined Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw.  Aeryn noticed that sometimes the hat shouted out the House at once, but others, like "Barns, Michael" took nearly a minute to decide.

"Blake, Aeryn!"

Aeryn's stomach dropped like a rock.

"Good luck," Ginny whispered as she stepped out of line.

Aeryn swallowed, hearing a ripple of whispers echo through the students as she walked to the stool and picked up the Sorting Hat.  "Isn't she a little old for this?" sneered someone at the Slytherin table, and Aeryn, her ears burning, jammed the hat down over her eyes and sat down on the stool.  She waited, looking at the black inside of the hat and feeling very foolish.

"Well, well, well," came a small voice at her ear.  "This is very interesting indeed."

Aeryn gripped the edges of the stool.  _*What's so interesting,* _she asked, instinctively questing out to probe the Sorting Hat's mind.  Trouble was, the Hat didn't have a mind. 

There was a brief pause from the Hat.  Then, there was a chuckle.  "You're not really a witch," it said condescendingly.  "You're a _mutant."_

Aeryn's heart froze.

"Yet, somehow, you managed to pass all the tests and fool all the professors into thinking you really do belong here.  How _devious of you, my dear."  There was a definite edge of amusement to the Hat's voice._

_*You're not going to tell Dumbledore, are you?*_

"Well, I suppose I could, but after you've worked so hard to get here, I don't know if I'd have the heart to ruin your life like that."  The Hat sighed, thinking hard.  "I suppose I'd better place you in a House, then…this is quite intriguing.  In all my years, I don't think I've ever run across a situation like this."

_*Just hurry up and place me,*  Aeryn thought._

"Well, Hufflepuff's definitely out—you're too fiery of a spirit for them—you have the studious character of a Ravenclaw, and you're quite intelligent—but, still, I think they're a bit too tame."  The voice in her ear became musing.  "Slytherin wouldn't be a bad match…you're cunning, you've proved that already by getting here…and, what's this?  Good heavens, my dear, you've already killed two people at your tender age?"

Aeryn's hands were cold and trembled against the edge of the stool.

"However—you're quite brave, and fiercely loyal to your friends.  But you have a strong thirst to prove yourself, too, and—ooh—a desire to be accepted.  So.  Where should I place you?"

_*Place me somewhere, please.*  She was beginning to sweat._

The Hat sighed.  "I don't think I've had such a difficult placement in all my years.  However, I have to take into consideration that you _aren't really a witch—although, I do see a smidgeon of magic in you, and, given time, maybe you'll be able to cultivate your talent—well, although I almost think differently, my instincts say that you'd better be in GRYFFINDOR!"_

The Hat shouted the last word to the entire hall.  With sweating palms, Aeryn took it hastily off her head and staggered towards the Gryffindor table.  She sat down in an empty seat next to Hermione, barely hearing the applause ringing through the air and Nearly Headless Nick's shouts of praise.  The snide, knowing voice of the Sorting Hat still rang in her ears.  But it was over now…she was safe…she had been Sorted.  And she was in Harry's House.  Disaster had been averted.

Hermione leaned over to her as the Sorting continued.  "Harry and Ron aren't here yet," she muttered.

Aeryn frowned in concern.  "Did you tell McGonagall?"

"Not yet, I haven't had time."  Hermione and Aeryn clapped politely as several more new Gryffindors joined their table.  "After the Sorting's over, though, I'm going to say something to her."

Aeryn nodded, her eyes falling on the staff table.  Harry and Ron weren't the only ones missing from the ceremony.  Professor Snape was missing as well.  As the head of Slytherin House, he should be present at the ceremony—not that Aeryn minded his absence.  Even after giving her top marks for her exams, he was still her least favorite professor.

Aeryn crossed her fingers as Ginny put on the Sorting Hat, which promptly shouted out "GRYFFNIDOR!"  Ginny hardly looked surprised as she walked towards the table, but since all her brothers were also Gryffindors, she'd probably already had a pretty good idea where she was going to be placed.  Finally, the last names were read, and Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet.  He was grinning broadly at the students, and his eyes twinkled proudly behind his half-moon glasses.  "Welcome!" he exclaimed.  "It is my pleasure to welcome you to a new year at Hogwarts!  Before we begin our banquet, I have a few words to say to you: Humdinger and bubblesqueak!  Thank you!" 

He sat down amidst clapping and cheering, and Aeryn grinned.  Dumbledore was a pretty cool character.

The dishes before them were suddenly piled with an amazing assortment of food.  Gryffindor table dug into their plates with a relish.  As Aeryn scooped a spoonful of scalloped potatoes onto her plate, she chanced to look up at the staff table.  Professor McGonagall had sat down and was beginning her meal when Professor Snape suddenly appeared at her side.  His greasy black-haired head bent down and whispered something in her ear, and McGonagall's stern face turned hard as flint.  The professor put her knife down and leaned over to Dumbledore, muttering to him in a low voice.  Dumbledore's cheery expression did not change, but he nodded sagely and said something to Snape.

McGonagall and Snape slipped from the room, extreme anger written across McGonagall's face, pure glee written on Snape's.  After a moment, Dumbledore leaned over to Professor Flitwick and murmured something, and then the Headmaster rose to his feet and exited the Hall.

_Harry.  And Ron.  Something must have happened to them.  Aeryn sat at the table, her knife poised over her steak and her mind racing.  No one seemed to have noticed the occurrence at the staff table save for her._

Aeryn picked up her fork, but set it back down, a lump of worry forming in her throat.  She put her napkin next to her plate and got to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked through a mouthful of carrots.

"Uh—bathroom—" Aeryn muttered, and she quickly made her way out of the Great Hall.  As the double doors swung shut behind her, the noise and laughter of the feast was muffled away, and the halls before her were silent.

Aeryn narrowed her eyes and concentrated, questing her mind out into the passageways before her.  She searched the main floor—the dungeon—there were people down there—five people, in Snape's office.  Aeryn pulled her mind back and hurried down the staircase.  She took a wrong turn, doubled back, and finally arrived outside of Snape's office.  The sturdy oak door was firmly shut.  Aeryn pressed her ear against the door, listening carefully.

"Professor Dumbledore!"  came Snape's indignant voice.  "These boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree—surely acts of this nature—"

"It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys' punishments, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly.  "They are in her House and therefore her responsibility.  Now, I must get back to the feast, Minerva—"

The heavy oak door swung suddenly open.  Aeryn, with a shriek, tumbled into the office and sprawled at the feet of a fuming Snape with a heavy thump.

"Miss Blake!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall fiercely.

"What are you doing here?"  Snape snarled.

"Hello, Miss Blake," Dumbledore said gently.  "Enjoying the ceremony?"

"Professor—Professors—Headmaster— " Aeryn quickly scrambled to her feet, nearly tripping over her robes.  "I came because—Harry and Ron couldn't—" Her eyes fell on the two sheepish-looking second years sitting behind the professors, and she gave a relieved sigh.  "Harry!  Ron!  Thank goodness you two are okay, Hermione and I have been worried _sick—"_

"Miss Blake," Professor McGonagall snapped.  "Kindly straighten your robe and calm down."

Aeryn looked down.  The neckline of her robe had been pulled down so far that she was almost falling out of her bodice.  "Sorry," she murmured, fixing her neckline and ignoring the sly grins Harry and Ron shot at each other.

"Why aren't you in the Hall, Miss Blake?" Dumbledore asked after a moment.

Aeryn bit her lip.  "I…was worried about Harry and Ron," she said, deciding to tell the truth.  "I saw you three leave the Hall, and I instinctively thought that something had happened to them…so I followed you."

"You just assumed our business was with Potter and Weasley?" Snape asked.

_I couldn't think of anything else that would make you smile so gleefully, Aeryn thought, but decided not to speak it out loud._

"As you can see, Miss Blake, both Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are fine, and I'm sure they appreciate your concern," McGonagall said, her voice slightly warmer than it had been a few moments ago.  "Now, Miss Blake, it would be best if you returned with Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape to the Great Hall and finished the ceremony."  She waved her wand towards the open door.

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said.  "Come, Severus, there's a delicious custard tart I want to sample."  He exited the office, followed by a glowering Snape.  Aeryn glanced back at the boys one last time, and quietly closed the office door.

She had climbed the dungeon stairs and was heading for the Great Hall when Professor Snape stopped dead in his tracks and whirled on his heel.  Aeryn nearly smacked into him, and shrank back a step as his coal-black eyes glared down at her.

"What were you _really _doing, skulking around my office?" he asked silkily.

"I told you."  She could hear the roar of the students quiet down in the Great Hall.  Dumbledore's familiar voice began speaking, although she couldn't make out the muffled words.  "I was worried about Harry and Ron."

"Really," Snape purred.

"Yes."  Aeryn looked up into his sallow face, her eyebrows raised.  He was so tall that she she had to tilt her head back all the way to look up at him.

Snape tilted his head like a curious hawk.  He did not speak for a moment, but merely studied Aeryn's face with his sharp gaze.  

A loud clapping erupted inside the Hall.

"Into which House were you placed, Miss Blake?" Snape asked quietly.

"Gryffindor," Aeryn said firmly.  The sound of singing echoed inside the Hall.

A flicker of disappointment raced across Snape's face, but was just as quickly erased by his usual emotionless gaze.  "Pity," he commented.  "You would have been an…_exquisite_…addition to Slytherin House."  His cold eyes slowly traced the beading at the neck of her robe.  "A true pity," he repeated softly.

Aeryn stared at him.

The doors of the Great Hall were flung open and the students of Hogwarts came pouring out into the halls.  The students were busily jabbering to each other—"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, I'm _telling _you, they've been expelled for crashing a flying _car—"_ and suddenly Hermione was tugging Aeryn's elbow.

"Aeryn, c'mon, we've got to—" Hermione suddenly saw Professor Snape, and her voice became more subdued.  "Oh.  Good evening, Professor Snape."

A thin smile twitched Snape's lips.  "See you in Potions, Miss Blake," he murmured, and he disappeared in a whirl of black robes.

"So what did you find out?"  Hermione asked as she dragged Aeryn along the hall.  Aeryn explained to Hermione what she had seen in the dungeon.  Apparently, there was some wild rumor that the boys had stolen a flying car and crashed it into some old tree.

"Well, Snape did say something about destroying some tree—" Aeryn began.

Hermione groaned and slapped her head.  "Let's wait for them to come back to the tower," she suggested as they stopped a little ways from the Fat Lady.  "I'm sure they'll be able to explain themselves."

They didn't have to wait long, either.  Very shortly afterwards, Harry and Ron came up the path to Gryffindor tower.

"Password?" the cheerful painting asked.

"Er—" Harry said.

Hermione rushed across the hall to them.  _"There _you are!  Where have you _been!  _The most _ridiculous _rumors—"

"Are you guys okay?"  Aeryn asked.  "Did you get expelled?"

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured her.

"You're not telling me you _did _fly here?" shrieked Hermione.

"Skip the lecture," Ron said impatiently, "and tell us the new password.  We've had enough lecturing to last us the school year."

"It's 'wattlebird,' but that's not the point—"

The Fat Lady's painting swung open on her words and there arose a great cheer from the interior of Gryffindor tower.  Harry and Ron were pulled through the portrait hole, and Aeryn and Hermione scrambled in after them.  All around the two boys, the Gryffindors were congratulating them on their terrific flight to Hogwarts.

"I don't believe this," huffed Hermione as she and Aeryn pushed through the crowd and headed for the dormitories.  She pushed open the door and stalked over to her four-poster bed.  "They'd better have not lost any points for Gryffindor _already _this year."

Aeryn shrugged and sat down on her bed.  "At least they're okay," she reminded her.

The brown-haired girl shrugged.  "They're _so _irresponsible!" she said after a moment.

"I know.  It's a boy thing," Aeryn said, and Hermione laughed slightly, a small smile lighting her face.  Aeryn grinned back at her and stretched out on the bed.

 "I'm glad you're in Gryffindor, Aeryn," Hermione said.  She lay down on her pillow and yawned.  "I think we'll be good friends."

"Me, too," Aeryn agreed sleepily.  "Me, too."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The Sorting Hat song was loads of fun to write._


	12. The Potions Master

Chapter 12: The Potions Master 

"This is _ridiculous," _grumbled Ron as he swiped futilely at a pixie fluttering just beyond his reach.

"Tell me about it," Aeryn agreed sourly, mind-slamming a pair of pixies and sending them spiraling to the ground.  There were only four left free, but it may as well have been forty for the trouble they were causing.  Harry finally caught one of them and stuffed it back into the cage, but not before the blue pixie dug its teeth into his finger.

Herbology and Transfiguration that morning had been wonderful, but the day was going downhill from there.  Aeryn had been looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts—without Snape, finally—but Gilderoy Lockhart, besides being handsome and egotistical, was also completely helpless.   For the first half of class, the students had taken a pop quiz on all things Gilderoy Lockhart, and then the professor had let loose an entire cageful of Cornish pixies in the room and unleashed pandemonium.  When the bell rang, Lockhart had left Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Aeryn to clean up the mess.

"We're going to be late to our next class," Ron growled.  The last of the pixies had grabbed a handful of his red hair and was pulling it merrily; Aeryn quickly stilled it with her telekinetic power and flung it into the cage.  She flipped the lock with a sigh of relief and wiped her forehead.

At that moment, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next class.

Harry straightened his glasses.  "What _do_ we have next?" he asked Hermione, who was hurriedly digging her schedule out of her bag.  She glanced at the parchment and gave a soft cry.

"Potions," she said flatly, waving her schedule at them.  "With _Slytherin."_

Harry, Ron, and Aeryn groaned.  "Snape's going to have our heads," Harry exclaimed as the four of them grabbed their bags and hurried out of the classroom.

They raced down the halls and down the stairway to Snape's dungeon.  Gilderoy Lockhart was standing outside the classroom, and he grinned at them as they flew towards the door.  "Ah, my friends!" he called, his smile flashing.  "I see you've caged the pixies—not that I couldn't have done it, of course, but I thought it would be best if you had the experience yourself—"

"I _told _you," Hermione hissed.

The door flung open with a bang.  An entire classroom of eyes turned to the doorway, including the blistering pair of coal-black eyes of the teacher whose lecture they had just interrupted.  Aeryn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione scurried into the classroom, their heads bowed.

"Well," exclaimed Professor Snape as they took their seats.  "The famous Mr. Potter and his motley crew have decided to grace us with their presence."  He placed his hands behind his back and paced over to them, peering down at them from behind his veil of greasy black hair.  "What was it this time, Potter?  Taking your flying car on a little joyride again?"

The Slytherins sniggered.

"Professor Snape," Hermione began.

"Five points each from Gryffindor for your tardiness," Snape said silkily.  He cocked his head and his sharp gaze pinned Aeryn to her chair.  "I'm surprised at you, Miss Blake.  One would think that at your advanced age you would choose your companions more wisely."

Draco Malfoy muttered something under his breath, and the Slytherins guffawed.  

Aeryn raised her hand.  "Professor, it wasn't our fault—"

Snape swooped down on her like a hawk, placing his hands on her.  "I suggest you think carefully about what you say next, Miss Blake," he murmured, his face bare inches away from hers.  "You'll be taking another ten points from Gryffindor if you aren't wise."

Aeryn swallowed and fell silent.  Snape turned away with a sneer and a swirl of robes.  "Now.  Let us continue."

Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients.  After a brief but amazingly scathing lecture about the importance of correctly measuring dried salamander tongue, the class divided to brew Waterlung Potions.  Snape wove his way through the cauldrons, stopping every once in a while to sneer at a Gryffindor or loudly praise a Slytherin.  

"Twenty points," Aeryn hissed, shaking a handful of wolfsbane into her cauldron with more force than she intended.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said in a low voice as Snape cast a cool eye into Neville Longbottom's cauldron.  Poor Neville looked as if he was going to faint at any second.  "It could have been a lot worse."

"Yeah, twenty points is nothing," Ron added, stirring the liquid in his cauldron.  "That's why we hang around with Hermione.  She gets the points, and we lose them.  It's a good relationship."

Hermione sniffed and added a pinch of powdered dragon's scales to her cauldron.

"Is the potion supposed to look like this?"  Harry asked, looking at his watery concoction.

Aeryn put down her spoon and walked over to look at Harry's potion.  As she bent over to peer in the cauldron, a puffer-fish eye bounced off her bottom.  She whirled around and saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle chortling over their cauldrons.

"Hey, Blake," Malfoy sneered.  "Bend over again…the view's great from over here."

Harry's face hardened, but Aeryn quickly laid a hand on his arm.  "Ignore them," she muttered.

"What is this?"  Snape turned around.  He saw Aeryn and Harry standing together and clucked his tongue.  "You are not to assist other students, Miss Blake.  Five points from Gryffindor."

"But—"

"Ten points, then."  The professor looked as if he was about to say more, but he broke off in a fit of coughing and had to retreat to the front of the room.  He picked up a goblet sitting on his desk and drained the contents.

The Gryffindors collectively shrank away from Aeryn.  She had known, of course, that Snape held Gryffindors in deep hatred, but she hadn't realized he was so free at taking away points.  _Better quit now before he throws a detention into the mix_.  Her lips tightened, but she made no attempt to retaliate as she stalked back to her cauldron.  

As she picked up her spoon, Snape was suddenly standing behind her, his body pressed uncomfortably close to hers.  His breath wafted against the back of her neck.  "Since you are so anxious to help others," he muttered smoothly, "let us see how well your own potion is faring."

The Potions master was tall, towering an easy head above her, and could effortlessly peer over her into her cauldron.  He bent down slightly as he spooned a measure of her potion onto a glass plate, and his oily hair brushed across Aeryn's face.  She valiantly strove not to flinch as he picked up the plate and slowly swirled the contents. 

"Well," Snape said after a long moment.  "How very interesting, Miss Blake."

Aeryn's jaw tightened.

"It appears that you have produced a suitable Waterlung Potion.  In record time, I might add."

At that unexpected comment, every eye in the classroom turned towards her.  Draco Malfoy, who had been whispering smugly to his two goons, stopped in mid-hiss and gaped furiously at her.

Snape placed the glass plate back down on the desk.  "I believe this is a first for your House, Miss Blake—I've never known anyone there to actually have a talent for this most subtle form of magic."  He curled his head down until his lips were nearly touching her ear.  "Take ten points for Gryffindor, then," he murmured in a low voice, but the room was silent enough for the entire class to hear him.

A gasp spread through the students; anger from the Slytherins, stunned disbelief from the Gryffindors.  Snape finally stepped away from Aeryn, his black robes swirling about his feet as he strode over to Hermione's cauldron.  Aeryn suppressed a shudder and ducked her head to avoid the baleful glares from the Slytherins and the confused, skeptical stares of her friends.


	13. The Turn Of The Screw

Chapter 13: The Turn Of The Screw 

"Professor?" 

Aeryn rapped on Gilderoy Lockhart's office door.  There was no answer.  She waited a moment and rapped again, a bit louder this time, but there was still no answer.

It was the end of September, and Aeryn was finally feeling adjusted to normal life at Hogwarts.  It was much more fun to have other students around.  Fred and George Weasley had already shown her several places to hide in case Mr. Filch, the caretaker, was on her tail.  Aeryn had used one of the hiding places one rainy Saturday afternoon after she had taken a walk to the lake to see the giant squid and smeared mud all over her shoes.  The curmudgeonly caretaker had followed her footprints, cursing every step of the way, but Aeryn neatly tucked herself behind a nearby gargoyle statue and escaped detection.

Aeryn tested the door handle.  It was unlocked, so she gently pushed open the office door.  She couldn't say that she was Hogwarts' top student—Hermione had her beat when it came to brains—but her marks were better than average, so it had been a complete surprise to her when Gilderoy Lockhart asked her to see him in his office to discuss her grades.

Over a dozen framed photographs of Gilderoy Lockhart—some complete with autographs—turned and winked as she entered the room.  After a moment's hesitation, Aeryn walked over to his desk.  There wasn't anything on it that would be considered professorial, unless one counted gaudy peacock-feather quills a standard issue for professors.  Letters from adoring fans littered the top of the desk and spilled onto the floor.  The only thing that even remotely linked Lockhart to his teaching profession was a tattered, old book resting on top of the piles of parchment.  Slightly curious, Aeryn walked around the desk to look at it.  The book was open, but its pages were blank.

Aeryn sat down in Lockhart's chair and pulled the book over to her.  It was a very thin book.  The cover looked as if it had seen better days, but the inside was clear and as bright white as if it had been purchased yesterday.  Intrigued, Aeryn flipped the book open to the front.  On the very first page were the words _January 1.  _She ruffled through the rest of the leaves, but there was no writing.  

After a moment, she shrugged and pushed the book away.  _Someone must have given him a diary for Christmas and he never got around to writing in it, _she reasoned.  She sighed and rocked back in his chair.  Perhaps he didn't have time to write in a diary because he was expending all of his creative juices writing his God-awful books.  Aeryn had attempted reading the assigned pages in Lockhart's books.  Once.  After that, she relied on Hermione to give her and Ron and Harry a summary before classes.

There was a rustle at the office door.  "Miss Blake!" exclaimed a familiar, cheery voice.  Gilderoy Lockhart, resplendent today in robes of pale mauve, swept into the room with a brilliant smile.  "So glad to see you!"

"Hi, Professor," Aeryn said, getting out of his chair as Lockhart walked over to the desk.  "You weren't here, so I let myself in."

The handsome professor winked at her, which was mirrored in the numerous photographs lining the walls.  "Not a problem, my dear, as long as you didn't look in my closet!  I keep some of my more dangerous trinkets I've picked up over the years—I almost got in trouble last week when Miss Lavender Brown came for a conference in my office, and she accidentally opened the door—I almost had to use a Binding curse on some of the Grundylows hiding in there, and I—"

"Um, I noticed you have a diary on your desk," Aeryn broke in, not wanting to hear another long-winded story about Gilderoy Lockhart's brave exploits.  "Are you working on a new book?"

"Oh, this?" Lockhart said casually, waving a hand at the tattered book as he sat down in his chair.  "One of my students gave it to me before the semester began.  I believe you know him—Draco Malfoy?  A very nice young man, and _so_ knowledgeable about my works!  Did you know, he memorized the entire introduction to _Magical Me?"  _Lockhart's eyes misted over and he gave a sniff.  "He presented me this diary in Flourish and Botts—a present, he said, to welcome the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to Hogwarts.  I was quite touched, really, especially when he said this diary had been handed down in his family to be used only for someone whose memoirs were _truly_ worth telling—well, I tell you, Miss Blake, how can you refuse such a compliment as that?"

_How indeed_, Aeryn thought sourly.  

Lockhart pushed the diary to one edge of the desk and motioned for Aeryn to sit down.  "But, down to business, Miss Blake.  I wanted to speak to you about your grade in my class."

"What about it, Professor?" Aeryn asked politely as she seated herself in an ornate Queen Anne chair.

Lockhart shook his head, clucking his tongue.  "I'm truly quite surprised in you, Miss Blake," he said sadly.  "You're such a fine student otherwise, and I would hate to give you failing marks.  But your performance in my class reflects otherwise."

Aeryn cocked her head and looked at him sharply.  "I don't understand, Professor.  What am I doing wrong?"  _Especially since all the homework we've been given has been composing sonnets praising your bravery…although you might not like some of the rhymes I thought up for "Lockhart," but still_….__

"Class participation, Miss Blake!"  Lockhart pounded a fist onto his parchment-lined desk, and his photographs nodded in assent.  "You scarcely ever volunteer questions or answers in class, and sometimes—" Here he leaned across the desk and looked sorrowfully into her eyes— "it seems as if you're _ignoring _my lectures!"

Aeryn bit down firmly on her lip to keep a giggle from escaping.  So _this _was what this whole charade was all about.  Aeryn was the only female in Gilderoy Lockhart's class who didn't listen to him with a look of utter rapture on her face.  In fact, most of the time she, Harry, and Ron struggled not to laugh as the lovesick students cooed and gasped to another episode of Lockhart's Most Dramatic Adventures.  She was also the only female who didn't raise a hand in class to comment on any of Lockhart's exploits, which was probably what he meant by class participation.

"Oh," she said after a moment.  "I didn't…realize."  She swallowed the guffaw in her throat and plastered a benign look on her face.  "I'll…try to better…from now on."

Lockhart smiled widely.  "Good.  I knew you would understand!"  He leaned across the desk and patted her hand.  "You're such an intelligent student anyway—I was sure this was only a slight disruption of communication."  He got up from his desk and ushered Aeryn to the door.  "Now, I want to let you know that you are welcome in my office anytime—during regular office hours, of course—and if you ever need help with anything, you just speak to me."

"I'll do that," Aeryn gasped, feeling laughter well up in her chest.

"Don't forget the essay on the history of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming Smile Award that's due tomorrow!" he reminded her.

"Okay," Aeryn muttered through trembling lips.

He waved cheerfully at her and shut the office door.  Aeryn was able to control herself until she heard the click of the door, and then collapsed onto the stone floor in a fit of laughter.  It was a good minute before she could collect herself enough to crawl back to her feet and stagger towards Gryffindor tower, giggling the entire way.  She couldn't wait to find Ron, Harry, and Hermione to tell them what had just happened.

*          *          *

"We are going to get _reamed," _Harry grumbled as they hurried into Potions after a thoroughly mind-numbing Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  "Snape's corrected our essays on the seven most deadly poisons, and I heard Malfoy saying that _all _the Gryffindors failed."

"And you trust Malfoy?"  Hermione sniffed as she sat down at her desk.  "I'm not sure about you three, but I _know_ I didn't fail.  Plus, Malfoy should shut his big mouth—I saw Crabbe and Goyle in the library getting books for him, and he wasn't even looking in the correct _section _for references!"

"And we won't flunk, either," Ron muttered to Aeryn in a low voice.  "Hermione corrected our essays before we turned them in."

The bell rang, and Snape swept out from the storeroom to his desk with a bundle of parchment in his hands.  Without a word, he turned to face the students, his coal-black eyes smoldering.

"I have never had a class of second years more inane than you," he hissed, fixing the cowering Neville Longbottom with a stare that could melt steel.  "I assigned the essay on deadly poisons to give your feeble brains an attempt at an easy grade.  Half of you failed to do the correct research, and those of you that were able to find the remarkably _easy _facts could barely string complete sentences together."

The class collectively shrank in their chairs.  With a swirl of his black robes, Snape began pacing between the desks, dropping the essays on the correct desks along with a suitably blistering comment.

"Miss Brown, I did not know it was humanly possible to repeat the word _very _fifteen times in one sentence.  Your vocabulary is pathetic.  Longbottom, your handwriting is atrocious, and the words I could make out from your chicken scrawl were practically incomprehensible.  Potter—" he stopped in front of Harry's desk, an amused snarl twitching the edge of his lip— "once again, you have proved that a person's relative fame is indirectly proportionate to the amount of brains he has."

Even the Slytherins were not immune from the wrath of Snape.  "Crabbe, your essay is six inches too short, and Goyle, make an _attempt _to remember the topic I assigned!"  The usually smug faces of the Slytherins drained as Snape calmly shredded Millicent Bulstrode's essay and dropped the pieces on her lap with the cold comment that he had seen better compositions on the stalls of the boys' restroom.

"How'd you fare, Hermione?" Ron muttered under his breath.

"I got a _B," _Hermione hissed, viciously shoving the parchment into her bag.  Her face was furious.  "I've _never _gotten a B before!  What'd you get?"

"I don't think I'm going to tell you," Ron whispered, hastily putting his essay away.

"Me either," Harry added, quickly hiding his essay.  

Aeryn resisted the urge to chew on her fingernails as the bundle of essays grew smaller and smaller.  She hadn't gotten hers back yet, and the awful image of Snape reading it out loud to the rest of the class was giving her heart palpitations.

Snape dropped the final parchment on the lap of Lucinda Vali, a forlorn-looking Slytherin, and stalked back up to his desk.  "Since all of you have demonstrated your complete ignorance on poisons, the lesson I had planned for today will be pushed back until Thursday.  Ten points will be taken from both Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin for this inconvenience."

_"What?" _shrieked Draco Malfoy, leaping to his feet.  "Professor Snape, you can't—"

"Quiet, Malfoy!" Snape roared, his sallow face twisting into a hideous snarl.  "And before you say another word, let me assure you that I have _no _qualms whatsoever taking points from my own House!" 

The classroom became as silent as a tomb.  After an awful moment, Snape's features relaxed and he began lecturing, pacing along the rows of desks to the accompaniment of hastily scratching quills.

Harry glanced over at Aeryn as Snape stalked past them.  _Where's your essay?  _he mouthed, his jade-green eyes curious.

Aeryn shrugged, a difficult feat to accomplish while scribbling notes.  _He didn't give it to me, _she mouthed back.  Harry raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything back as the professor glared at them and they quickly bent their heads diligently over their quills.

Snape finished lecturing a few moments before the end of class and turned his cold stare onto the students.  "A rewrite of your essays are due on Thursday," he said silkily, clasping his hands behind his back.  "Since I have outlined the facts for you in class today, the rewrite will be twenty-four inches instead of twelve."  He stared down his hooked nose at them with a fierce gleam in his eyes.  "I expect nothing less than perfection."

The bell rang, and there was a frantic flurry as the students gathered up their bags and raced for the door.  Aeryn could hear the outraged shrieks of the Slytherins as they excited the classroom.  

"Ten points!  From _our _house!  I don't believe it!  _And _a rewrite due on Thursday!"  

Aeryn began putting her notes away a little more slowly than usual.  Snape still hadn't returned her essay, and she needed it for the rewrite.  Something about this scenario didn't sit well with her.

"Hey, Aeryn, hurry up," Ron said.  He, Harry, and Hermione were almost to the dungeon door.

Aeryn paused for a moment, then shook her head.  "I'll catch up with you in Gryffindor tower."  Ron looked as if he wanted to protest, but a quick glance at Professor Snape convinced him that waiting for Aeryn outside would be the best idea, and he, Harry, and Hermione hurried from the dungeon.

Aeryn got to her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder.  Professor Snape was sitting on the corner of his desk, his arms folded as he regarded Aeryn intently.  

"Yes, Miss Blake?" he asked coolly.

Aeryn swallowed.  "I didn't get my essay back," she said quietly.

"Ah, yes."  Snape's sallow features remained impassive, but he tilted his head slightly to one side.  "Your paper I saved for last, Miss Blake, and I did not finish correcting it before class today."

"Oh.  So can I get it tomorrow?"

Snape stroked his chin with one long finger.  "How important is this paper to you, Miss Blake?"

She shrugged, forcing herself to keep direct eye contact with him.  It was like staring into the center of a flame, and it took all her willpower not to tear her eyes away.  "I'd like to get it so I can do the rewrite."

He was silent for a long moment, gazing at her unblinkingly.  Aeryn's breath was heavy in her chest, and she finally dropped her eyes to the stained stone floor.

"I will bring your essay to dinner this evening," the professor said finally.  "Come to the staff table after you have finished eating and I will give it to you."

Aeryn looked back up.  The Potion master rose to his feet, his eyes dragging across her face as he slowly walked around the edge of his desk and sat down in his chair.  He leaned over to pick up a scrap of parchment from the floor.  As his intense gaze slipped from her, Aeryn turned and hurried from the dungeon without a word.

*          *          *

Aeryn glanced over at the staff table.  Most of the professors were finished with their meals, but Headmaster Dumbledore and Snape were still eating.  Aeryn absently pushed a scrap of steak around the golden plate with her fork, waiting for an opportune moment to retrieve her essay.  A bright flash of light illuminated the Great Hall; a few of the first years winced, but everyone else seemed unconcerned.  There was an enormous thunderstorm beating the walls of Hogwarts castle, and the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the turbulent weather outside, complete with flashes of lightning.

"It doesn't look like he has it," Hermione commented, peering towards the Potions master.  

"He'd better," Aeryn muttered.  "I need that paper for the rewrite."

Hermione sniffed.  "I _still _don't see why I got a B," she murmured to Aeryn.  "I _know _all my information was correct!  And Harry and Ron used the same books as I did for research, and they got worse grades then me."  She shook her bushy brown head violently.  "If you ask me, I think Snape's just being spiteful."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of potatoes.  "He's probably still angry about all the things we did to him last year—I mean, it wasn't really our fault, we _did _think that he was the one after Harry, and he certainly didn't act like he was helping."

Aeryn, who had already heard all the tales about her friends' adventures last year involving the legendary Sorcerer's Stone, nodded absently.  The conversation inevitably turned to Quidditch, and Aeryn glanced back over at the staff table.  Snape had finished his dinner and was getting to his feet.  Aeryn rose from her seat and hurried over to the professor before he could leave the Great Hall.

"Excuse me, Professor Snape."  

He turned at the sound of his name.  "What is it, Miss Blake?"

_As if he doesn't know.  _Aeryn refused to be cowed by his cold stare.  "I need my essay."

"And I promised you I would bring it to dinner."  The Potions master shook his head slightly.  "I completely forgot about it until right now."

_Go figure.  _Aeryn stifled an exasperated sigh.  "So when can I get it from you?"

Professor Snape shrugged and pushed the huge double doors open.  "If you absolutely must have this paper tonight, Miss Blake, you can come with me to get it."

Aeryn could think of a hundred other things she would rather do than tag along after Snape, but she did need her essay.  The only time she had to work on the rewrite was tonight, since she had promised to watch Harry's Quidditch practice tomorrow evening.  After only a moment's hesitation, she followed Snape out of the Great Hall.  They strode through the hallways and down the entrance to the dungeons.  After twisting through the many turns of the labyrinthine passageways, Snape stopped in front of a bare, damp stone wall. 

"Eel-lips," he muttered, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open.  He marched through it, and Aeryn, with a sudden pang of uncertainty, followed after him.  She knew how to get to Snape's office, and this wasn't the way.  They entered into a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains.  A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them.

"Where are we?" Aeryn asked warily, stopping in the middle of the room.

"The Slytherin common room," Snape answered, walking over to a door on the other side of the room.  "I corrected the essays in my room last night before I went to bed."  Noticing that she had not moved towards the door, he paused and turned back towards her.  "Well?  Are you coming?"

Aeryn shook her head.  "I think I'll just wait for you to come back here, thanks."

Snape's voice, when he spoke again, was as icy as the North wind.  "Miss Blake.  I am not your errand-boy, to run things from my room to you.  If you want your essay, you will have to come to my room to get it."  

_I could skip the Quidditch practice tomorrow.  Harry would understand.  _But leaving right now was probably what Snape expected.  It would just be like him.  Aeryn gritted her teeth and followed the professor through the door.  They walked down a stone hallway lit with more greenish lamps until Snape pushed open a heavy door at the end of the hallway and ushered her into his chambers.

Aeryn found herself standing in a richly decorated sitting room.  Although there were no windows, the room was brightly lit with candelabras and flickering globes of light.  A fire crackled in the elegant fireplace, and was surrounded by a comfortable-looking set of brocade couches.  Although she couldn't say the same about his wardrobe, Snape had an excellent taste in furnishings.  The stone floor was lined with rich Oriental rugs, and the cabinet resting against the wall was made of darkly finished cherrywood.

"Wait here," the Potions master commanded her, and he slipped through a darkened doorway.  The uncomfortable silence of the room pressed suddenly upon her, and Aeryn rocked back and forth on her heels, peering curiously around at the décor but unwilling to venture closer.  A mirror, rimmed with heavy silver, hung on one wall.  From where she stood, Aeryn could glimpse the barest reflection of her black robes as she hopped from one foot to another.

A small antique table had been placed beneath the mirror, on top of which rested an intricately carved wooden box.  Something silver had slipped from beneath the wooden cover and had pooled on the tabletop.  Aeryn looked over at it curiously.  She glanced towards the darkened room where Snape had disappeared, and when he did not return after several more moments, she tiptoed over to the table and carefully opened the lid of the carved box.

A beautiful pendant winked up at her.  It was small and circular, about the size of a Galleon.  Filigreed silver cradled a sapphire as big as her thumbnail, and was attached to a delicately wrought silver chain.  Aeryn drew an admiring breath and lifted the pendant free from the box, letting it spin and catch the firelight.  

The faintest rustle of robes whispered behind her, and Snape loudly cleared his throat.  Aeryn turned.  The professor stood in the doorway, tapping her essay thoughtfully against his open hand.

She winced, bracing herself for a suitably scathing comment.  "You know, Professor, you probably shouldn't leave something as valuable as this lying around the room," she said, spilling the pendant into her palm.

Snape took a step towards her, the firelight pooling across his hawklike features.  "Are you a connoisseur of fine jewelry, Miss Blake?" he asked softly.

Aeryn blinked, taken aback.  With slow, deliberate movements, the Potions master walked up to her.  He laid the roll of parchment on the table and took Aeryn's clenched hand in his.

"This necklace is one of my family's greatest heirlooms," Snape said, gently uncurling Aeryn's fingers from around the pendant.  "A very powerful wizard—one of the founders of Hogwarts—crafted it for my many-times-great grandmother in thanks for saving his life."  He hooked one long finger into the chain and lifted it from her palm, letting the silver setting spin before her eyes.  "He told my grandmother it was a suitably beautiful token for a suitably beautiful woman."

"Which founder?" Aeryn asked quietly, although she was fairly certain of the answer.

"Salazar Slytherin," Snape said musingly, twisting the chain in his fingers to catch the firelight.

_Of course._  Aeryn reached along the table for her essay.  "Well, it's…very lovely."  Snape's eyes swiveled slowly to rest on her, and the sudden intensity in his gaze made her skin crawl.  "Um, thanks for getting me my—"

"It has been a long while since this necklace was worn," Snape interrupted silkily.  "Why don't you try it on?"

"Oh, I really don't think I should," Aeryn began, trying to slip around him, but he stepped into her path and snaked his arms around her neck before she could stop him.

The cool weight of the necklace slithered around her throat.  He bent down to fasten the clasp, his breath burning against her neck, and Aeryn suppressed a shudder as his inky black hair brushed against her face.  His hands slid across her shoulders and he turned her to face the mirror.

"Voilà.  It becomes you, Miss Blake."

The necklace did look good on her, Aeryn had to admit.  The sapphire heightened the slate-blue color of her eyes, and the scooped neck of her robe framed the pendant excellently.  But Snape's hands were resting far too comfortably on her shoulders, and the gleam in his coal-black eyes as he stared at her in the mirror sent alarm signals through her body.  Aeryn brought her hands up to the clasp of the necklace.  "It's very nice, Professor—"

His hands caught hers.  "It becomes you _very _well," he purred into her ear, his voice unusually hoarse.  His long fingers spidered out along the skin of her neck.  "You should keep it."

The alarm signals were now full-fledged warning sirens.  The clasp came loose in her hands, and she wrenched free from Snape's grasp.  "Thanks for the essay, Professor," she gasped, dropping the necklace to the table and grabbing her essay.  Without giving him a chance to stop her, she slipped past him and hurried for the door.

"Miss Blake."  His voice had resumed its usual iciness.  

Aeryn paused, her hand on the door.  "Yes?"

 But he did not answer.  After a moment, Aeryn pushed open the door and hurried from the Slytherin chambers.

She was safely back in Gryffindor tower before she remembered the essay she clutched in her damp palm.  With a sinking heart, she unrolled the parchment.  Emblazoned at the top of the paper in thick green ink was the letter _A.  _Aeryn ran an astonished eye down the length of her essay.  At the very bottom of the parchment was a sentence written in spidery handwriting:

A truly excellent overview, Miss Blake.  No rewrite required.  –S. Snape 

Aeryn sat down on the bed, absently placing the essay next to her.  For a long moment, she stared out the window of the room, watching the driving rain pound against the glass. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from the Henry James novel of the same name._


	14. Nowhere To Run

Chapter 14: Nowhere To Run 

Hermione and Aeryn stretched their feet out before Hagrid's fireplace, listening to the splatter of raindrops against the windows.  October had descended upon Hogwarts like a heavy sheet, filled with damp chill and endless rain.  Half the students came down with nasty colds, and the school nurse, Madame Pomfrey, was running herself ragged.  Aeryn had fortunately kept herself healthy, but Hermione was still smoking slightly from the ears from the Pepperup potion she had taken a few hours earlier.

"What's keeping them?" Hermione asked grumpily, taking a sip of scalding tea.  Harry and Ron were supposed to meet the girls in Hagrid's hut after Quidditch practice for their weekly chat with the gamekeeper, but the boys were over half an hour late.

Aeryn shrugged.  "Maybe practice went longer than usual."

"Can't believe they're practicin' in this weather," Hagrid exclaimed as Fang slobbered on his knee.  "Zoomin' around on those spindly broomsticks in the rain!  Someday, you hear me, someone's gonna get struck by lightnin' an' _then _there'll be trouble."

As if to punctuate his words, a bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, a rumble of thunder rocked the hut to its foundation, the door burst open, and two very wet and bedraggled figures stumbled into the room.  Aeryn opened her mouth to make a very funny comment, but after one look at Harry's face, she wisely swallowed her words and went to look for some dry towels.

"It's _horrible _out there," Harry gasped a little while later.  He and Ron were securely wrapped in blankets and sitting close to Hagrid's fire, sipping hot tea between shudders.  "Fred and George could hardly see through the rain to keep the Bludgers from clobbering me."

"Yeah, and the only reason Harry finally caught the Snitch was because it flew into his hand," Ron added, his teeth chattering.

"That was the first time," Harry said sourly.  "Wood let it out again and I still couldn't catch it after an hour and a half."  He glanced out the window as another bolt of lightning illuminated the dark sky.  "I bet he's still on his broomstick right now trying to find it."

 "Why on earth did he keep you out there for so long?" Hermione asked, passing Harry a plate of biscuits.

Harry shrugged.  "He _said _it was because half the team showed up late to practice."  He looked over at Ron and gave a sly, knowing grin.

"Yeah, that's what he _said," _Ron repeated, returning the grin.  "But I think he was waiting to see if you might come and watch, Aeryn."

Aeryn groaned and rolled her eyes.  Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was a burly sixth year and, according to her friends, was madly in love with her.  Aeryn seriously doubted there was any truth to the rumor.  Granted, Oliver always noticed when she came to Quidditch practice with Harry, and had struck up many a friendly conversation with her in the Gryffindor common room, but Aeryn was certain the relationship was solely platonic.  Still, she couldn't deny that the teasing from her friends was flattering—Oliver was good-looking, although a bit young for her.

"He did look disappointed when I told him you weren't coming out this afternoon," Harry said innocently, swirling his teacup.  "By the way, how are flying lessons going, Aeryn?"  He and Ron both sniggered.

"Flying lessons?"  Hagrid asked.

Aeryn shook her head.  "Oliver is teaching me to fly," she said, grabbing a piece of fudge.  She'd only had two lessons so far—Oliver seemed more interested in keeping his Quidditch team in top-notch shape—but he had taught Aeryn a few tips on maneuvering a broomstick.  Or, at least, he thought he had.  Although Aeryn knew that a wizard's broomstick was a magical instrument and could probably fly itself, she wasn't sure if one would behave for a Muggle.  Instead of tempting fate, Aeryn found it far easier to levitate the broomstick with telekinesis and zoom around on it that way.  She was far from graceful in the air, and would probably never be as quick as Harry during a Quidditch match, but she was getting the hang of it.  Plus, Oliver was a fun chap to spend time with.

"Yeah, and he said that you could _ride his broomstick _anytime you wanted," Harry said quietly.  Aeryn pointedly ignored Ron and Hermione as they spit out mouthfuls of tea and began snickering.

A chuckle rumbled in Hagrid's throat as he got up to put another log on the fire.  "Well, now."

"Not you too, Hagrid.  Don't you start in on me now," Aeryn grumbled.  "There's nothing between us."

"Yeah, right," Ron chortled.  His red hair was sticking out wildly at odd angles as it dried, and he looked as if he had stuck his finger in a light socket.  "I'll tell you who else has a crush on her," he said, putting his teacup down and leaning in confidingly.  _"Professor Snape."_

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed.

Hagrid turned, a frown crossing his burly face.  "What d'yeh mean?"

"Ron, that's ridiculous," Aeryn exclaimed, her stomach lurching suddenly.  "Have you been looking the other way in Potions lately?  He can't stand me."

Ron wagged a finger teasingly at her.  "You've gained over fifty points for Gryffindor during Potions over the past month, you get A's on all your papers, and last week you _corrected _him twice in the lecture and he didn't even yell at you!"  He raised his eyebrows knowingly.  "Believe me, Aeryn.  He's got it _bad."_

Harry made a face.  "Ooh, that is gross." 

Aeryn smiled weakly.  It was becoming the legend of Hogwarts castle, the tale of a lone Gryffindor that could impress Professor Snape.  Her friends teased her often about it, of course—suggesting that she was beginning to take Hermione's place as the resident smarty-pants—and, of course, they didn't mean anything by it.  But Aeryn hadn't told them about the growing uncertainty she felt towards the Potions master.  

She had avoided being alone with him ever since the incident in his chambers, but she couldn't avoid him in class…the hands that lingered on her shoulders a shade too long; the long fingers brushing against the small of her back or the nape of her neck, too quickly for other students to notice; the times Aeryn would look up from her cauldron or desk to find his blistering gaze resting on her…and the marks, the easy A's that she should not be getting, and his ever-present, subtly veiled double-entendres.  Nothing tangible, and nothing overtly inappropriate—yet Aeryn couldn't help feeling uneasy.

"That's one relationship I don't envy you, Aeryn," Hermione said, shuddering.

Hagrid was still frowning intently at Aeryn.  "I don't like the sound o' this," he said flatly.  

Aeryn looked over at him and shook her head.  "It's okay, Hagrid," she reassured the gamekeeper quietly.  "They're just kidding."  

"Yeah," Harry agreed.  "I think Snape's just shocked that someone besides the Slytherins can do Potions."

An awkward silence descended upon the group as another roll of thunder shook the gamekeeper's hut.  "Why don't I brew another pot of tea," Aeryn said hastily, getting up from her chair.  "So, Harry, what else happened in practice today?"

*          *          *

"I wonder what Dumbledore has planned for the Halloween feast this year," Harry said that Monday at breakfast.  "I heard something about a troupe of dancing skeletons.  Is that possible?  They don't have any muscles."

Ron shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs into his face.  "Dunno, but whatever happens will be pretty tame compared to last year."  He looked knowingly over at Hermione.  "Right, Hermione?  No trolls this time."

Hermione didn't answer.  Her nose was buried in the folds of the _Daily Prophet, _and she hadn't yet touched her breakfast.

"Earth to Hermione."  Ron leaned over and rapped his fork on her plate.

Hermione turned a page of the paper, a very large worry-line forming on her forehead.

"Good heavens, girl," Aeryn exclaimed, setting her spoon down.  "What's in the paper that's so engrossing?"

Hermione finally looked up, concern etched in her eyes.  "You guys should look at this," she said quietly, spreading the paper out on the table.  Harry, Ron, and Aeryn huddled around her and read the article emblazoned on the front page.

New Line of Defense Against Mutants 

_By Prospero Seritus_

_Yesterday afternoon, the Ministry of Magic announced their new line of defense against mutant attacks.  The Ministry has developed a combination of spells and magical devices that, when delivered by a skilled magic-user, render a mutant powerless._

_"We are very proud of these advancements," said Cornelius Fudge, Minister of the Ministry of Magic.  "The Muggle community has already made many advancements in mutant control, and we're happy to say that ours are twice as effective as theirs."_

_Over the past several months, the Ministry has been made aware of the growing mutant population after a series of attacks by mutants posing as witches or wizards.  The most memorable of these attacks were an attempt to rob Gringotts on September 3, and the death of Marisha Lillykin, 34, on September 29._

_"These events…are a great tragedy for the Ministry," said Arthur Weasley, member of the Ministry.  "We are doing everything in our power to make sure events like these never happen again."_

_Mutants are people whose genetic makeup has 'mutated' into a higher stage of evolution, according to Muggle scientists.  Almost all mutants have super-heightened abilities, such as the ability to fly or read a person's mind._

_Senator Robert Kelly, a Muggle, was the first to bring the threat of mutants to light.  The American Muggle community has recently passed a law that all mutants must be registered with the government and wear collars that neutralize the effects of their powers.  _

_"The threat of mutants in the wizarding community is very real," said Angela Lirlips, a Muggle-relations coordinator for the Ministry of Magic, and one of the largest supporters for mutant registration.  "Without proper identification, these people can walk among us undetected and we will never know the difference until we've been blasted to bits.  Would you like to work along someone who can read your mind and control your thoughts?  True, a powerful wizard can do that, but a mutant can do all those things without detection.  There is no wand-waving, and no trace of magic to alert anyone around."_

_According to the annals of the Ministry, You-Know-Who was rumored to have recruited mutants for his dark causes, although nothing was ever proven._

Members of the magical community who know or suspect someone of being a mutant are encouraged to contact the Ministry immediately.

"Wow," Harry breathed as he finished the article.  "Heavy stuff."

"Dad's told us about some of this stuff," Ron said, frowning.  "It's getting to be a big problem."

Aeryn's face was as white as flour.  

"Can…I…see this?"  She grabbed the paper from Hermione with shaking hands and flipped through it.  There were several more articles giving details to known mutant attacks, an angry editorial extolling the need for mutant registration, and a long list of how to identify mutants from ordinary witches and wizards.

"I heard about stuff like this at home over the summer," Hermione said in a low voice.  "My parents try to keep up on current events…I mean, the mutant scare hasn't really been that big a deal over here in England, it's the States that has the worst of it…I hadn't known, though, that it was a problem here in the wizarding community!"

"The States?"  Harry turned to Aeryn, his bottle-green eyes wide behind his glasses.  "D'you know about any of this stuff?"

"I…." Aeryn's voice was choked.  "I never really…paid much attention…to it."  She looked frantically around the Great Hall.  She had never noticed how many students and staff read the _Daily Prophet_ every morning.  Today, it seemed as if everyone had their nose buried into a copy, if they weren't discussing some article intently with a neighbor.

"Do you suppose that there might be some mutants here at Hogwarts?" Ron asked in an intense whisper. 

"I don't know," Hermione murmured, casting an eye around the Great Hall and leaning in close to her friends.  "I wouldn't think that Headmaster Dumbledore would let any of them in, especially since only people with magical abilities can come to a wizarding school…but who knows?  I mean, maybe some of the students here can do magic, but they're mutants, too!"

Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table.  "Maybe Malfoy's a mutant," he said musingly.  "Think Dumbledore would expel him if he were?"

"Oh, I hope so," Ron said.

Aeryn clenched her hands together, watching as the blood drained away from her white knuckles.  Her chest was tight, and it was very hard to breathe.  She slumped back in her chair, her mind racing.

_Mutant registration in America.  It's only a matter of time before the rest of the world follows suit.  And now the wizarding community…._ Her stomach plummeted.  _The one place I thought I could be safe, and now if they're going xenophobic as well…._

Hermione looked over at her sharply.  "Aeryn, are you okay?"

"Fine," Aeryn forced out.  She struggled to plaster the semblance of a normal expression onto her face, but quietly spent the rest of breakfast on the verge of vomiting.

By the afternoon, Aeryn was a nervous wreck.  She had been so keyed up in Charms that she didn't even make an attempt to cast the Jelly-Legs curse they were learning.  Professor Flitwick had been quite surprised at her lack of progress at the end of class, but Aeryn convinced him that she was feeling rather ill—which wasn't far from the truth.  She was unable to pay attention during Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which Lockhart noticed immediately.

"Are you feeling all right, Miss Blake?" he asked her as she put her things away after class.  Today, he was wearing pastel-green robes.  Aeryn wasn't a big fan of pastels on men, but Lockhart was certainly able to pull it off.

She nodded.  "Just something I ate at breakfast."  

Two Hufflepuff girls, who were hanging around the classroom to talk to Lockhart, glared blisteringly at her at the attention she was receiving from the professor.  Lockhart didn't look convinced at Aeryn's explanation.  "Nothing wrong at all?"  He tapped his fingers knowingly on her desk.  "Is someone bothering you, perhaps?"

"No."

"I worry about you, my dear, really I do," Lockhart said, sending the two Hufflepuff girls into a flurry of whispering.  "I want you to tell me if anything is going wrong, _anything_ at all, because I feel quite responsible—"

"Professor," Aeryn interrupted him, standing up and swinging her bag over her shoulder.  She wasn't in the mood for this today.  "Nothing is wrong.  I just feel ill.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get to Potions."

Something dark flickered across Lockhart's eyes but was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.  "Ah yes.  Professor Snape's class."  He smiled, showing brilliant white teeth.  "I understand you're doing quite well in there.  Tell me, is Potions just a knack of yours, or—"

"Professor Lockhart, I'm going to be late," Aeryn snapped, pushing past the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and hurrying to the door.  The two Hufflepuffs jumped backwards as she passed, and it took all Aeryn's concentration not to lash out at them.

She very nearly arrived in Potions late—all the students were already there—but fortunately, the bell rang just as she entered the room, and Professor Snape didn't come out of the storeroom until she frantically flung herself into her chair.

It seemed that every student in Potions had heard or read the _Daily Prophet_ during classes that day.  As they diligently shredded tubeworms, Aeryn could hear the muted discussion echoing between the cauldrons.  Draco Malfoy, of course, had plenty to say about it.  "My father agrees entirely with the Ministry on this," he exclaimed loudly, shaking a spoonful of powdered phoenix feathers into his cauldron.  

"That's a first," Ron muttered.

"He thinks Dumbledore should get the Ministry in here to Hogwarts and check all of the students, just to make sure none of them are mutants," he said to Crabbe and Goyle, his angular face very smug.  He turned and shot a very nasty look at Hermione.  "Of course, they should do the same for Mudbloods, but still…"

_"Don't,"_ Aeryn hissed, grabbing both Harry and Ron before they could leap on Malfoy.  The last time Malfoy called Hermione Mudblood, the two had ended up with detentions.  If they started a brawl in Potions class, the thought of what Snape would do to them made Aeryn shudder.

"My mum owled me this morning and said that if there were any mutants at the school, she would send me to Durmstrang immediately," Seamus Finnigan whispered to Dean Thomas.  "I think she's overacting a little, but still…you don't think there would be any here at Hogwarts, do you?"

Aeryn's hand spasmed, and she accidentally knocked a full phial of scorpion bile to the floor.  The phial shattered, and as Aeryn leaped to escape the steaming bile, she rammed into her cauldron.  She tumbled to the floor, and with a sickening thud, the cauldron rocked on its base and fell over.  The students leaped backwards as an orangeish liquid spread slowly across the classroom floor.  Snape whipped towards her at the sound and pinned her with an icy glare that could freeze the Mediterranean.

At the same moment, the bell rang.

"Miss Blake," Snape said as the other students scrambled away to gather their belongings.  "You will stay behind and clean up your mess."

Aeryn nodded silently.  _Go on,_ she mouthed to Hermione when she turned back to glance worriedly at her.  Aeryn picked up a handful of rags sitting on her ingredients table and started cleaning up the floor.  Since she hadn't been able to add the essential ingredients to her potion, it was only messy and not dangerous to touch, but this small knowledge didn't help improve her mood any.  Luckily, the mixture was thick, and hadn't quite spread to all corners of the room before Aeryn was able to mop it up.

Her hands were thoroughly sticky by the time she had cleaned up the worst of the mess.  Aeryn flung a handful of ruined rags into her cauldron, swallowing a curse, and grabbed the lip of the cauldron, heaving it back into an upright position.  She wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her robe, grimacing, and looked down at her hand.  She turned back to her ingredients table to get some more rags.

A pair of hands suddenly grabbed Aeryn's hips and yanked her backwards.  Aeryn's hands froze as a tall, lean body pressed firmly against her back.  A warm breath wafted against the skin of her neck. 

"I consider myself a patient man, Miss Blake," murmured Professor Severus Snape silkily.  "However, your imperceptivity is enough to drive a saint to murder."  His long fingers dug painfully into the bones of her hips.  "No more subterfuge, Miss Blake.  I am tired of my advances being ignored."


	15. Quid Pro Quo

Chapter 15: Quid Pro Quo 

Aeryn's hands flew to her hips, clamping on top of Snape's fingers and trying to pry them away.

 "I think I have been exceedingly open about my feelings for you," he murmured into her ear, curling his fingers into her hips until she winced.  "I hadn't realized, though, how obtuse an intelligent young woman such as yourself could be."

Aeryn pushed frantically at his hands, her heart racing.  "Let me go."

His grip tightened.  "I'd rather not."

Aeryn flung herself forward, breaking free of the Potion master's grasp.  She whirled quickly on her heel, raising her hands to strike, but Snape was quicker.  In a blur of black robes, he pounced on her, pinning her arms to her sides and throwing her backwards against her ingredients table.  Aeryn gave a yelp of pain as her head cracked against the wooden tabletop.

"Do you know how long I've waited for a student like you?" Snape purred, curling over her.  "An talented woman of legal age…with only a rudimentary grasp of magic."  His coal-black eyes were like empty train tunnels.  "You certainly aren't the most beautiful student that's passed through my classroom, but that doesn't make you any less desirable."

Aeryn writhed in his grip.  "Let—me—go," she spat.  If she could only get her hands free…a dozen karate moves flashed into her head, but he was leaning against her with his full weight, and she could hardly breathe, let alone throw him off.

Snape pursed his lips and shook his head.  "Come now, Miss Blake."  He leaned closer, his inky-black hair curtaining across her face.  "Don't make this harder on yourself than it has to be."  His eyes gleamed furiously, and he lunged his face towards hers, his mouth open.

Aeryn attacked instinctively.  With a shriek, she _shoved _with all her telekinetic might at the Potions master.  Snape's hands tore from her arms as he sailed across the room, striking the stone wall at the end of the dungeon and crumpling to the floor.

Aeryn stood frozen where she was for an instant; then, as Snape gave a small groan and put a hand to his head, she hurled herself towards the door.  She _pulled _her bag towards her and twisted the doorknob frantically.  But it was locked.  _"No!"  _Aeryn shrieked, hearing the rustle of black robes behind her as Snape got slowly to his feet.  She slammed her palms against the door and _quested_ into the door, trying to trip the lock.

_"Imperio!" _snarled Snape, and Aeryn was suddenly hit by a floating sensation as every thought and worry in her head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness.  She stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of the Potions master walking towards her.

And then she heard Snape's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of her empty brain.  _Turn around and face me…turn around and face me_….__

Aeryn obediently let her hand drop and turned to face the Potions master.

_Listen to me.  _And suddenly her mind cleared, and she was staring straight into the black, flashing eyes of Professor Snape.  There was a small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, which he wiped away with the back of his free hand. In the other hand he held his wand, which was pointed directly at Aeryn.  

"Just as I suspected," he breathed.  His sallow face was as hard as granite, but the workings of a cold smile flickered his lips as he took a step towards her.  He placed one long hand against her cheek.  "My dear Miss Blake.  You have just made a colossal blunder." 

His fingertips trailed across her jawline.  "How long have you known you were a mutant, Miss Blake?"  His eyes scorched into hers.  "You may answer that question."

The muscles in Aeryn's jaw loosened.  "How…do you…know that?" she gasped.  The tiniest corner of her mind began to struggle.  

"I've been hit with more than enough Banishing Charms to tell when a real one is cast and when I'm being hurled through the air by someone's mind," he purred.  His eyes trailed into the low bodice of her dress.  "It all makes perfect sense, really.  I'm surprised no one has figured it out before now."

"What do you mean?"  Her tongue and mind were clearing, but her mutant powers were still unreachable.  She strained mentally, trying to break free of his spell.

 "Your ability for magic, Miss Blake."  Snape stepped away from her, his eyes raking up and down her body.  "I've watched you perform in Charms and Transfigurations.  I don't care how talented you are, there is no logical explanation for the ease at which you perform those spells."

"I'm…just good, that's all."  She clenched her jaw, trying to push at him.  Nothing happened.  But the spell locking her muscles was beginning to melt.  She kept her eyes fixed on Snape, still struggling for her mutant powers.

"Miss Blake."  Snape's voice was dry.  "I know when a spell is being cast.  It leaves a residue in the air that can be traced by a trained warlock—if one is looking for it."  He folded his arms across his chest, looking down into her eyes.  "Your spells, Miss Blake, leave no such residue."

He began pacing the floor in front of her.  "You have already demonstrated your telekinetic abilities," he began, running his wand musingly between his fingers.  "Since you can create the effects of certain charms on other people, I will assume that you also have some form of telepathy."  

"How do you—"

He stopped in front of her, bending down until his face was level with hers.  "Before I was a professor here, I worked with and against mutants with powers such as yours."  He grinned, a gesture that did not quite reach his icy eyes.  "I am quite proud to say that I was able to best all of them.  Just as I will eventually best you, Miss Blake."

Her muscles had worked loose.  She had her chance.  Aeryn whirled as fast as she could and leapt towards the door, but Snape lightninged his hand towards her and grabbed her wrist, neatly twisting her arm behind her back with a sharp yank.

"That was very unwise," he murmured.  _Hold still, _his voice echoed in her mind, and Aeryn fought back the sudden wave of obedience that swept over her.

"Let me go, or I'll fry your brain," she gasped, nearly falling to her knees as pain shot up her arm.

Snape laughed, a bitter sound that splintered in her eardrums.  "Miss Blake, I am a wizard trained in the Dark Arts.  Rest assured that I can and _will _kill you before you do anything as foolish as trying to fry my brain."  He gave her arm such a vicious tweak that Aeryn nearly passed out.  

"Now," he murmured as she whimpered in his grasp.  "I am going to release your arm and dispel the Imperius Curse—which doesn't seem to be doing much good on you—and I will step back.  You will not try to escape or overpower me, and I will keep my distance.  We will discuss this situation like the two reasonable adults that we are."

"And what if I don't want to discuss anything with you?" Aeryn choked.

His grip tightened further around her wrist.  "Oh, you will, Miss Blake."  

After a second, his fingers snapped away from her skin and Aeryn's mind was freed.  With a thankful gasp, Aeryn jerked away from him and knelt on the ground, cradling her aching arm.  She looked up at the Potions master, her face twisted in loathing.  The faintest flush colored his normally sallow cheeks as he sank to the floor next to her.

"Now," he said after a quiet moment.  "What are we going to do?"

Aeryn flinched away from him.  "I'm going to tell Dumbledore what just happened," she muttered between clenched teeth.

Snape raised his eyebrows.  "Please do, Miss Blake.  Tell everyone if you so wish.  Shout it from the rooftops of Hogwarts.  Take out an article in the _Daily Prophet_—really, I don't care."  

Aeryn rubbed her wrist, looking at him warily.

"However, let me warn you that if you go running to the headmaster, I will be following directly behind." A cold grin split his face and he leaned towards her.  "Do you honestly think that Dumbledore will allow you to remain at Hogwarts once he discovers the truth about you?"

Aeryn's heart pounded against her ribcage.  "You wouldn't dare."

"Who do you think people will believe, a distinguished professor, or the words of a deceitful second year_ mutant_, especially with the mutant scare surging through the wizarding community?"  Snape looked at her questioningly.  "I'm sure many concerned parents will have plenty to say about their children attending school with you.  Really, once the word is out, Dumbledore will have no choice but to quietly expel you."

Aeryn shrank from the ice in his coal-black eyes.  "Are you threatening me with blackmail?"

Snape clucked his tongue sadly.  "Blackmail is such an ugly word, Miss Blake."  He lifted one hand and gently traced the curve of her cheek.  "I prefer to think of it as…capitalizing upon personal knowledge."

"You sick bastard," she growled, pulling away.

Snape's face grew hard.  "You might want to retract that last statement," he said in a low voice.  "It would be best if you listened to my proposition."

Aeryn was clenching her jaw so tightly that her neck ached.  "Not in a million years."

For a long moment, their eyes locked.  Then Snape sighed, a martyred look crossing his face.  "I suppose, then, it is my duty to inform the headmaster of your potential threat."  He shrugged his shoulders and rose to his feet.  "It practically tears me in two to do this, but the safety of the other students must be consideredfirst."  

Aeryn's face drained of color as the Potions master walked towards the dungeon door.  Even if she went to Dumbledore, the Potions master would very likely get off with only a warning.  Aeryn, on the other hand…if Snape spilled her secret to the headmaster, she would be bundled out of Hogwarts before she could snap her fingers, no questions asked.  She shuddered at the imagined faces of her friends, twisted into horror once they discovered her secret….

"Wait."  The word felt like it was ripped from her throat by a meat hook.  

Snape paused, his hand on the door.  A slow smile spread across his sallow features.  "That's more like it, Miss Blake," he purred.  

Aeryn shakily stood as the professor glided across the room to stand in front of her.  He was so close that his black robes lightly grazed against her skin.  "What do you want?" she choked.  Her heart was in her throat, but she would not back away, would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cowed.

Snape rested his hands easily on her shoulders.  "It isn't about what I want, Miss Blake.  It's about what's best for you."  His lips parted in a thin smile.  "This mutant fear—it's not going to go away.  It's only a matter of time before the Ministry decides that wizarding schools need to be monitored, to assuage frightened parents."  He bent his head and pressed his forehead confidingly against hers.  "Now, by yourself, you'll never be able to fool them."

Aeryn shut her eyes, her muscles quivering beneath his touch.  "What are you suggesting?" she hissed.

"I can give you protection against the Ministry and keep your secret hidden from Dumbledore," Snape breathed.  His lips parted and brushed softly against her cheek.  "That is, of course, if you give me what I want," he murmured against her skin, pressing her body close to his.  "_Quid pro quo_, Miss Blake."  

Bile rose in Aeryn's throat at his touch, and she strained against his grasp.  "And if I refuse?"

His hands buried in her hair and yanked her head backwards.  "Then I will have you expelled before you can blink," he snarled.

The words congealed in Aeryn's throat as she stared into his cold black eyes.  

After a moment, Snape's hands slipped from her hair.  "I don't expect an answer right this moment," he said, taking a step away from her.  The light of the classroom played eerily over his hooked features, hooding his eyes in shadows.  "But I can't wait forever, Miss Blake."  He grinned evilly.  "If you take too long, I may have to use one of your little friends as a surrogate until you make your decision." 

"Fuck you," she snarled.

"Oh, yes, please," he sneered, spreading his arms invitingly.  "So you _can _read minds—"

Aeryn's hand lashed out, slapping the professor so hard across the face that his head rocked backwards with the force of the blow.  There was a dull roaring in her ears, as if she had just come from a loud rock concert and now had to adjust to normal hearing.  Her heart was pounding like a sledgehammer in her chest, and she could feel the walls closing in around her.  Before Snape could react, Aeryn scrambled past him for the door.

_"Imperio," _Snape roared, and Aeryn's mind was slammed back into serene oblivion.  _"Back away from the door and face me, Miss Blake!"_

Aeryn obediently did as she was told.

The depths of Snape's eyes flashed furious sparks.  "I could give you no choice in this matter," he snarled, leveling his wand at her.  The imprint of her hand darkened his sallow cheek.  "It would be far simpler for me to take you in my own way.  Mutant you may be, but you are just as vulnerable to the Imperius Curse as anyone else."  His lip curled, and Aeryn calmly watched as his knuckles turned white against the dark wood of his wand.  "I could easily make you _approach me_—"

Aeryn's footsteps echoed against the stone floor as she walked towards him.

"—_put your arms around me_—"

Her hands slipped around the Potion master's neck.  His free hand reached up and grabbed her jaw, and she tilted her head back, obligingly parting her lips as he bent his face down to hers.  But his mouth stopped a bare fraction from hers.  For a moment they stood there, his black gaze smoldering into her complacent eyes.

"That is just a _taste _of what I could make you do, if I wanted to," he hissed.  "But I prefer my women to come to me of their own free will."  A grin flickered across his lips.  "It makes things so much more…unchoreographed."  

He muttered a word, and Aeryn's mind was suddenly freed of his grasp.  She tore herself away from him, her hands flying to her mouth as her eyes opened wide in horror.  The professor's face had gone expressionless once more, and he calmly fastened his wand onto his belt as Aeryn slumped back against a desk, tremors beginning to rock her body.

"I think we understand each other now," he said softly, his robes billowing out behind him as he walked slowly around his desk.  "Let me see…today is Monday."

He placed his hands on the top of his desk and leveled his gaze at her.  "Tomorrow during class I will assign an essay that will be due this Friday, on All Saints Day.  Instead of writing the essay, all I want from you is your answer.  I think that four days gives you plenty of time for a decision, don't you?  You'll even have time to enjoy the Halloween celebration."  

He smiled, and Aeryn's blood turned to ice in her veins.  He sat down in his chair, his eyes never leaving her.  "Weigh your options carefully, my dear.  Your future here depends upon it."

Aeryn's body felt very light, as if she had just woken up from a long nap.  She groped for her bag, her fingers trembling too hard for her to control them.  Her breath was coming in shallow gasps, and the only thing she could think of was to get away, out of the classroom, to run to the safety of Gryffindor tower.  She caught the straps of her bag and she threw herself across the stone floor, fumbling clumsily for the door handle.

"Until November first, Miss Blake."  Aeryn turned back at Snape's voice.  He rocked back in his chair, steepling his fingers underneath his hooked nose.  "I eagerly await your answer."

The door opened, and with a stifled sob, Aeryn ran out of the room, feeling as if her chest had been wrapped in iron bands that were being slowly tightened, one twist of the screw at a time. 


	16. Enemies Of The Heir, Beware

Chapter 16: Enemies Of The Heir, Beware 

"I can't stand much more of this," Ron muttered through chattering teeth as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.  

Aeryn chafed her frigid arms and nodded vigorously, flinching as Sir Patrick's head went sailing by her, accompanied by loud cheers.  When Harry had first brought the offer to her, she had leapt at the chance to attend the party celebrating the five hundredth anniversary of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington's death.  Even with Hagrid's enormous jack-o-lanterns decorating the halls and the arrival of the troupe of dancing skeletons, Aeryn was hardly in a celebratory mood.  She wanted to be as far away from the rest of the school as possible this night. 

All Saints Day was tomorrow.  For the past four days, Aeryn had been living in a state of tortured limbo, a constant ache thudding in the pit of her stomach as Snape's proposal echoed maddeningly in her ears.  She kept praying fervently that either she or the Potions master would drop dead before the sun rose the next morning, but knew there was no hope for such an easy out.  She had to make a decision before tomorrow, and the thought dogged her every waking second.  

Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party had started out quite interesting—one of the school's dungeons had been ghoulishly decked out with black candles, cobwebs, black velvet drapes, and a saw-playing orchestra that sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.  Aeryn had almost enjoyed conversing with the hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people packing the room, but after an hour, the temperature and the lack of edible food was straining her nerves to the snapping point.

"Let's go," Harry said.  It didn't look as if their absence would cause too much anguish; the rest of the ghosts were happily enjoying the company of the Headless Hunt.  Aeryn, Harry, Hermione, and Ron backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up a passageway lit with flickering black candles.

"It was very rude of Sir Patrick to crash Nick's deathday party," Hermione said as they walked through the hallway.  "After all, Nick wasn't invited to join the Hunt—there was no need for them to ruin his evening, too."

Aeryn had felt sorry for the Gryffindor ghost, especially after seeing the look of disappointment on his pale face once the Hunt had burst in the dungeon, but not sorry enough to stick around and freeze to the stone floor with a bunch of dead people.  Judging from the look on Harry's face, the young wizard's sentiments were the same as hers. 

"Pudding might not be finished yet," said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.  Aeryn's stomach lurched at the thought of eating anything, especially coupled with the possibility of running into Professor Snape at the feast.  She idly entertained the notion of curling up in one of Hagrid's enormous pumpkins for the night and never coming back out.

There was stumbling sound behind her, and Aeryn turned to see Harry Potter clutching at the stone wall, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway. 

"Harry, what're you—" she began.

"Shh!"  Harry pressed his ear to the wall.  "It's that voice again—the one that I heard in Lockhart's office—shut up for a minute—"  

Voice?  Aeryn looked at Hermione, confused.  After his detention during the first weekend at Hogwarts, Harry had come back with a story of hearing a cold voice whispering death threats in the walls.  Hermione and Ron had taken him somewhat seriously, but Aeryn had personally thought that spending four hours helping Gilderoy Lockhart write notes to adoring fans had caused her friend to hallucinate.

"Listen!" Harry said urgently, and the other three froze, watching him.  Anxiety began to crawl down Aeryn's spine as the boy strained to listen.  This didn't look like a hallucination.  After a hesitation, Aeryn closed her eyes and quested outwards, into the walls of Hogwarts.  She could hear the distant Halloween celebration—the assembled ghosts downstairs—the whirling minds of her three friends—"

"It's moving upwards!"  Harry shouted suddenly, startling Aeryn.  "This way!"  He began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall.  Ron, Hermione, and Aeryn bolted after him, their faces set in masks of confusion.  Harry stood where he was for a moment, surrounded by the babble of talk from the Halloween feast echoing out of the Great Hall, and then whirled on his heel and sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor.

"Harry!"  Hermione called, clattering behind him up the staircase.  "What're we—"

"SHH!"  Harry cried.  And, after a tense moment:  "It's going to kill someone!"  He suddenly bolted up the next flight of stairs.  The other three followed him, panting as they trailed Harry down the passageways of the second floor.  Aeryn, her heart pounding as she raced to keep up with her quicker, younger friends, flung her mind out ahead of them.  There was nothing—no one on that floor except for them—dust and decay in the corners of empty rooms—

—_wait—_

She ran smack into Ron as they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage of the second floor and knocked him to the floor, interrupting her questing for the second time this evening.  "Sorry," she murmured to Ron as an afterthought, looking warily around them.  She had caught the faintest whiff of another presence on this floor—something unfamiliar, something not human—

"Harry, _what_ was that all about?" said Ron, climbing to his feet and wiping the sweat off his brow.  "I couldn't hear anything…"

Hermione gave a sudden gasp pointing down the corridor.  _"Look!"_

Aeryn squinted into the darkness.  Something was shining on the wall ahead, and with a plummeting heart, she approached it.  Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

A dark shadow was blotched beneath the message.  Aeryn, Ron, Harry, and Hermione crept forward apprehensively, nearly slipping on the large puddle of water on the floor.  As they realized what it was they leapt backward with a splash.

"Oh my God," Aeryn whispered, feeling the blood drain away from her face.

Mrs. Norris, Mr. Flich's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket.  She was as stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

"Let's get out of here," Ron said after a few seconds.

"Shouldn't we try and help—" Harry began awkwardly.

Aeryn clapped a hand on his arm.  "No," she said, trying to keep the quaver from her voice.  Mrs. Norris' glassy eyes looked as if they were fixed right towards her, and she fought back a shudder.  "There's nothing we can do.  Ron's right, let's get out of here and find someone to help us."

They turned to go, but it was too late.  From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sounds of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people, and students came crashing into the passageway.  After a frozen instant, Aeryn leapt to try and cover the sight on the wall, but she was too late.  The noise of the students died suddenly as they spotted the hanging cat.  The four of them stood alone, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

A familiar voice echoed through the silence.  "Enemies of the Heir, beware!"  Draco Malfoy pushed to the front of the crowd, grinning widely at the sight of Mrs. Norris.  Aeryn shrank back slightly at the ghoulish fire smoldering in the young boy's eyes.  Malfoy pointed a thin finger at Hermione's nose.  "You'll be next, Mudblood," he sneered.

"What's going on here?"

Argus Filch, the caretaker, came shouldering through the crowd.  "What's going on—_my cat!"  _he shrieked, falling back and clutching his face in horror.  _"My cat!  What's happened to Mrs. Norris?"  _His eyes fell on Harry, and his face bulged with rage.  _"You!" _he shrieked, stepping towards the boy murderously._  "You've killed my cat!  I'll kill you!  I'll—"_

_"Argus!"_

Aeryn, who had thrown herself in front of Harry to protect him from Filch, looked up as Dumbledore and a number of teachers arrived onto the scene.  In seconds, the headmaster had swept into the circle and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch quietly.  "You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Blake."

The silent crowd parted to let them pass.  As she started hesitantly forward, Aeryn felt her elbow grasped in a familiar hand.

"Good evening, Miss Blake," Professor Snape hissed as he hauled her along the passageway.  "I missed you at the feast this evening."

Blood thundered loudly in Aeryn's ears.  "Let me go," she whispered furiously.

"Not a chance," he answered firmly.

The group entered Gilderoy Lockhart's darkened office.  As Lockhart lit the candles on his desk, Dumbledore laid Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her.  Professor McGonagall bent close, her eyes narrowed as Lockhart hovered around them, making suggestions.

Aeryn fought not to panic as Snape, still holding her arm, dragged her to one side of the office.  Filch was slumped in a chair by the desk, his body racked with dry, horrible sobs.  Aeryn felt like doing the same as Snape leaned close to her ear, his breath rusting her hair.

"Only a little time left until All Saints' Day," he whispered throatily, his fingertips gently caressing her arm.  "I assume you've chosen the correct answer."

"It's not Friday yet," she growled, pulling her arm away from him.  Her eyes caught Harry's from across the room, and she drew a deep breath.  She must remain calm.  She would not let Snape get to her.  

In the center of the room, Dumbledore straightened and turned to the caretaker.  "She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

"Not dead?"  Filch choked.  "But why's she all—all stiff and frozen?"

"She's been Petrified," said Dumbledore.

"Ah!  I thought so," said Lockhart rubbing his hands together.  "I remember when I was—"

That was all Filch needed to hear.  _"He_ did it!" shrieked the caretaker, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.  "You saw what he wrote on the wall!  He found—in my office—he knows I'm a—a Squib!"

Harry's face paled.  "I never _touched_ Mrs. Norris!" he cried.  "And I don't even know what a Squib is!"

"He saw my Kwikspell letter!" growled Filch, his face terrible.  "You little—"

"No second year could have done this," Dumbledore began firmly.  "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—"

"Not necessarily, Headmaster."

The room fell silent as Professor Snape's icy voice cut through Dumbledore's words.  Every eye in the office, including those in Gilderoy Lockhart's framed photographs, turned to the shadows where Aeryn and the Potions master were standing.

"What do you mean, Severus?"  Professor McGonagall asked sharply, her eyes flickering over her square-rimmed glasses.

Snape rustled from behind Aeryn and walked over to Lockhart's desk.  He peered intently down at Mrs. Norris and gave her a perfunctory nudge with a long finger.  "I've seen cases like this before," the Potions master said after a long moment.  He turned and stared intently at Dumbledore.  "Before I came to teach at Hogwarts."

"As have I," Lockhart said eagerly, cutting into the conversation.  

"Please explain yourself, Severus," Dumbledore said, ignoring the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"We can't rule out the possibility that this was a mutant attack," Snape murmured.  

Aeryn's heart ground to a screeching halt.

Professor McGonagall looked over at Snape incredulously.  "That's impossible," she scoffed.  "There's no way an intruder could have gotten onto the grounds.  Even a trained wizard would have been noticed trying to sneak in—we have alarms, guardians—" 

"I'm not saying," Snape interrupted calmly, "that this attack came from the outside."  The silence in the room was thick as the Potions master laid a hand on Mrs. Norris' still head.  

"Do you mean—" Lockhart began cautiously.

Snape nodded.  "We may have a student here who is a mutant."

Aeryn's skin cooled as the blood drained from her face.

Dumbledore looked skeptical.  "How do you know this, Severus?"

"The aftermath of a mutant attack is something you never forget, Headmaster," Snape said soberly, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight.  "Granted, the cat could be Petrified, but I've seen similar conditions come from someone who has been blasted by a telepath."

Professor McGonagall did not look convinced.  "Certainly you're not suggesting that Harry Potter is a mutant," she said harshly. "Or Mr. Weasley, or Miss Granger, or Miss Blake, for that matter."

Snape's gaunt face was expressionless in the flickering shadows.  "Of course not, Minerva.  But, I suggest that we bring in the Ministry of Magic to check this matter out, just to be on the safe side."

McGonagall turned to Dumbledore.  "What do you think of this, Albus?"

Dumbledore's twinkling blue gaze was solemn.  "I can see your point, Severus," he said slowly.  "However, at the risk of jumping to conclusions on such a serious charge, I think it best if we peruse this matter in the morning."

Filch looked furious.  "My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping.

"Or blasted telepathically," Snape added.

"Whatever!"  Filch yelled.  "I want to see some punishment!  _Now!"_

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently.  "If she is Petrified, Professor Sprout has procured some Mandrakes, and will be able to make a potion that will revive Mrs. Norris once the plants have reached their full size."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in.  "I must have done it a hundred times.  I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep—"

"Gilderoy," Snape exclaimed icily.  "As I have told you before, I am the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.  Aeryn shrank back against the wall, remembering the first time Snape had spoken those words to Lockhart.  But this time, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor merely shrugged and waved a hand.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to Harry, Ron, Aeryn, and Hermione.  The four of them leapt for the door as quickly as they could without actually running.  As Aeryn reached back for the doorknob, her eyes were caught by the cold gaze of Professor Snape.  The barest fraction of a knowing smile flickered across his lips as he looked hungrily at her.  Aeryn hurriedly shut the door, feeling the blood freeze in her veins.

When they were a floor up from Lockhart's office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them.

"D'you think I should have told them about the voice I heard?" Harry asked worriedly.

"No," said Ron, without hesitation.  "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."  But even Aeryn, in her preoccupied state, could hear the underlying skepticism in Ron's voice.

"You do believe me, don't you?" Harry asked

"'Course I do," said Ron, a little too quickly.

"I believe you, Harry," Aeryn said quietly.

"I guess it could make sense," Hermione said slowly, after a moment.  "If Mrs. Norris was attacked by a telepath, maybe Harry could have heard the attacker's thoughts."  The girl shrugged, not looking too convinced at her explanation.  

"But why would a telepath attack Mrs. Norris?" Aeryn said hurriedly.  "I mean, I'm not saying that…mutants…would attack logically…."

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully.  "If there's a mutant at school here," she said, "maybe they attacked Mrs. Norris so she wouldn't go running to find Filch.  Because they were doing something…that maybe marked them as non-wizardly…."

"Hermione, that still doesn't make much sense," Aeryn exclaimed.

Hermione looked even more confused than ever.  "It's very weird, that's all…."

"I know it's weird," Harry said.  "The whole thing's weird.  What's that writing on the wall about?  _The Chamber has been opened…_what's that supposed to mean?"

The friends looked at each other with puzzled eyes.

"And what on earth's a Squib?"  Aeryn asked finally.  To her surprise, Ron stifled a snicker.

"Well—it's not funny really—but it's _Filch.  _A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magical powers.  Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual.  If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I guess he must be a Squib.  It would explain a lot—like why he hates students so much."  Rom smiled, looking satisfied.  "He's bitter."

"Oh."  So, that's sort of what she was then.  A Squib.  Aeryn didn't find the name very complimentary, but at the moment, she would gladly trade all her mutant powers to be called _only _a Squib.  She didn't know if Snape had been bluffing about Mrs. Norris—Aeryn had very limited experience with other mutants—but even if he hadn't been telling the truth, Dumbledore and the other teachers had been alerted to the idea of mutants at Hogwarts.  By tomorrow, the rumor would have spread through the school, and there would be no escaping it.

A clock chimed somewhere, twelve long, sonorous chimes, and Aeryn's heart twisted inside of her.

"Midnight," Harry whispered.  "We'd better get to bed."

*          *          *

Aeryn slowly unrolled a sheet of parchment as she sat cross-legged on her bed in Gryffindor tower.  All the other second year girls were asleep, their faces serene and peaceful in the glow from Aeryn's sole flickering candle.  It was late, well past two in the morning, but Aeryn couldn't sleep.

After all, she hadn't yet written her essay for Professor Snape's class.

The shadows crawling in the corners of the room shifted ominously in the candlelight.  Aeryn unstoppered her bottle of ink and took her quill in hand, a great cave yawning in the pit of her stomach.  With trembling fingers, she dipped her quill into the ink and slowly wrote two words on the yellowish paper:

I 

_ACCEPT_

The quill slipped from her fingers.  In the light of the flickering candle, Aeryn bowed her head over the curl of parchment and began to weep silently.


	17. Price To Pay

**Chapter 17:  Price To Pay**

A wave of sarcastic applause met the ears of Aeryn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they crept into Potions class on Friday afternoon.  "Well, well, well," Draco Malfoy called from his desk.  "If it isn't the Defunct Foursome."

The knot of Slytherins surrounding Malfoy snickered appreciatively.

"Surprised you and your friends are still here, Potter," said Malfoy calmly, hopping off his desk and walking up to Harry.  Harry flinched back as Malfoy leered into his face.  "We thought for sure that you'd be expelled this time—not that your crusade wasn't a noble one, of course."  He put a hand to his heart and sighed dramatically.  "All the students would have remembered you with much thanks as we wandered the halls, free from Mrs. Norris' scrutiny."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ron growled, dropping his bag into his seat. 

Malfoy slithered around the desk and wrapped his arm comradishly around Ron's neck.  "There's a very interesting rumor going around the school, saying that Mrs. Norris was the victim of a mutant attack."  He looked over at Hermione and grinned.  "Maybe that'll finally get the Ministry in here to do some tests and sweep out the undesirables…you know, mutants, Mudbloods, whatever they can find…sort of an ethnic cleansing…." 

Aeryn tossed her bag in her chair and turned to face the Slytherin second year.  "Let Ron go."  Her words were quiet, but her voice rasped harshly across the room.

Malfoy's gray eyes grazed over Aeryn's face.  "Nice bags under your eyes, Blake.  Sleep much last night?"  He pursed his lips sorrowfully.  "A sure sign of guilt.  So, how'd you do it?  Stoneslow Spell?  Fossilizing Curse?  Or maybe _you're _a—"

"That'll do, Mr. Malfoy," Snape murmured, sweeping out from the storeroom as the bell rang shrilly.  Something in his voice made the students quickly swallow their usual chatter, and they lined up silently to drop their essays on Snape's desk.  He sat back in his chair as a pile of parchment grew before him, his eyes glittering.

Aeryn did not look at him as she flung her paper onto his desk, but she could feel his smoldering eyes burning into her form as she made her way back to her seat with a pale face and her chin held high.  But for all her attempts to put on a brave front, Aeryn was unable to listen to a word of the lecture.  It took all her strength to sit up straight in her chair as Snape swept along the rows of desks, discussing the various forms of Invisibility potions.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bell rang, and the students grabbed their bags and bustled for the door.  Aeryn slowly began to put her quill and parchment away.

"Miss Blake, please stay after class."

Aeryn's fingers twisted around her eagle quill, snapping the feather in two with a loud _crack_.  Harry, Hermione, and Ron paused at the sound, turning and looking anxiously at her from the door.

"D'you want us to wait for you outside, Aeryn?" Ron asked

"No," Aeryn choked.  "No, I'll see you in Care of Magical Creatures.  Go on without me."  After a nervous glance at each other, her friends left the dungeon.

The door clicked closed as Snape shuffled through the pile of parchment on his desk.  Aeryn got up from her desk and turned her back as he pulled her essay from the stack.  The parchment unrolled with a crinkle.  

A heavy moment passed.

"Excellent choice, Miss Blake," Snape purred finally. 

The rustle of robes echoed against the stone floor, and Aeryn turned as the Potions master walked slowly towards her.  With a whispered word, the parchment in his fingers ignited and flared into ashes.  

"I knew you'd come around," he said calmly.  He lifted one long finger and gently stroked the skin of her cheek.   "Especially after all this foolishness with Filch's cat.  It _was_ very stupid for you and your friends to be wandering around up there by yourselves, you realize.  Next time you might not be let off so leniently."

Aeryn pressed her hands hard to her sides to control the trembling of her fingers.  "Professor, please, I still have class—"

"Yes, I know," he mused.  "A pity."  He shrugged his shoulders, trailing his fingers across her face.  "I suppose I'd best let you go—we don't want rumors flying around the school about us, do we?"

"Of course not," she choked, trying not to shudder under his icy touch.

He smiled coolly, a gesture that did not quite reach his eyes.  "Come to my chambers tonight, at midnight.  You know the way—the password is 'Heir Apparent.'" His fingers slipped from her face and he sauntered back to his desk.  "I trust you will be discreet?"

His smug words sent sickness flowing through Aeryn's blood, but she merely nodded curtly and hurried out of the dungeon without another word. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing around the entrance to the dungeons.  Aeryn very nearly bowled them over as she flew out of the stairwell.  "Er…sorry," she exclaimed, putting out a hand to grab Harry as he stumbled backwards to get out of her way.  

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked.

Aeryn felt heat surge through her cheeks, and she bent down and pretended to tie her shoe, ducking her face away from her friends.  "Um, yeah.  Hey, I told you guys not to wait up for me."

"We didn't want to leave you," Ron said.  "What'd Snape have to say?"

Aeryn exhaled, feeling as if she had just been punched in the solar plexus.  "Nothing."

"Snape doesn't keep students after class for nothing," said Hermione, her voice skeptical.  "It had to have been _something."_

"He…" She couldn't tell them the truth.  She thought furiously for a moment. "…He gave me a detention.  That's all."

She sneaked a look upwards.  The look on her friends' faces was as if she had just told them she was going to grow wings and fly to Istanbul.  "You're kidding," Harry gasped.  "Snape giving _you _a detention?  But you're his best student, even if you _are _a Gryffindor!"

She shrugged.  "He didn't like my essay or something."

Ron didn't look convinced.  "You just turned it in.  How on earth could he have hated it already?"

"Look, I don't want to talk about it."  Aeryn straightened, refusing to meet her friends' eyes.  "C'mon, let's go, we've still got class."

*          *          *

The day passed far too quickly for Aeryn, and before she knew it, she was standing before the stretch of stone wall that lead to the Slytherin chambers.  "Heir…Apparent," she muttered, and the wall slid open to reveal the rough walls of the Slytherin common room.  The dark shadows in the high-backed chairs facing the fireplace warned Aeryn that a few Slytherins were still awake.  She cautiously quested towards the figures.  There were only two, a fifth and sixth year playing an involved game of wizard chess.  It was a simple thing to cloud their vision as she slipped through the room, just in case they happened to look up.

She paused at the end of the hallway, her hand resting on the heavy oaken door of Snape's chambers.  Not for the first time that evening, she wondered whether she should even go through with this.  Was remaining at Hogwarts worth the price she would have to pay?  If expelled, she would just go back to doing what she had before, cleaning houses and trying to remain undetected…but was that even an option now?  Mutant registration had already become legal in the States, according to the _Daily Prophet_.  Soon the rest of the world would follow suit, and Aeryn would be registered, her every move watched, and handicapped by a collar hampering her powers….

Two months ago, that option might have been acceptable.  But Aeryn had been given a taste of the wizarding world, the world of which she was rightfully a part.  Here, she had friends, and a chance to be accepted for what she was—even if her powers weren't exactly magical.  For the first time in five years, she had found a place where she could be happy.

She couldn't lose that, no matter what the cost.

Aeryn squared her shoulders and rapped gently on Snape's door.  After a moment, the hinges swung open silently.  Aeryn slipped into the Potions master's chambers and shut the door behind her.  The room was only half-lit, and it took Aeryn a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low light.  A fire crackled in the fireplace, but oddly enough, she could feel no heat issuing from the snapping logs.  

"I was wondering whether you would show or not."  

Aeryn jumped at the sound of Snape's voice.  He was seated in one of the couches before the fire, his back towards her. 

"You didn't leave me much of an option," Aeryn said quietly.

Snape rose from the couch and turned to look at her.  Backlit by the flickering flames, he was a faceless blotch against the light.  Aeryn couldn't see the expression on his face, and that realization was frightening.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked. 

Aeryn shook her head.  "No, thanks."  If she imbibed anything right now, she was certain she would puke it all back up over the Oriental carpets.  She walked slowly over to the fire, forcing herself to remain calm as his features became visible in the light of the fireplace.  He was wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black pants, and she realized that this was the first time she had seen him without his usual black robes.  The thought did nothing to calm her nerves.  "Professor, I have some terms to this agreement of ours."  

Snape raised an eyebrow as he poured himself a goblet of amber liquid.  "My dear, there is nothing to discuss."

"Yes, there is."  Aeryn lifted her chin.  Snape sipped from his goblet, his black eyes regarding her calmly over the brim of the cup.  She forced herself to meet his gaze.  "There are some things I won't—I mean, this agreement only covers—" A trickle of cold sweat rolled down her spine.  "I—will not do—"

Snape cut her off with a wave of his hand.  "Aeryn—I may call you Aeryn, yes?"  He set his goblet down on a table and smiled.  "I think it's safe to say that our relationship has progressed into first-name basis."  

Aeryn did not comment.  There was a faint rushing in her ears, as if she was standing at the seashore.

The firelight stained his teeth the color of blood.  "My sexual tastes are not perverted, if that is what bothers you." 

"Of course not."  Her words sounded as if they were coming very far away, from someone else.  "You just enjoy fucking your students."

"Really, you Americans can be so vulgar sometimes," Snape sighed.  "You know very well, Aeryn, that you are the first of my students that I've _fucked_, to use your delightfully insightful terminology."  He advanced slowly towards her.

Aeryn took an involuntary step backwards.  "And I want you to stop giving my friends a hard time."  The back of her legs smashed against the wall and she winced, her shoulder blades pressing against the cold stone.

Snape paused, looking surprised.  Then he laughed.  "If you are suggesting that I go against every image I have built as the cold Potions master who books no patience with inane Gryffindors, you are going to be very disappointed…_Aeryn_."

Her name rolled off his tongue far too familiarly.  Aeryn's hands curled into fists at her side.  "I'm talking about Harry, Ron, and Hermione," she muttered.  "I know that you don't like them much—scratch that, you don't like them at all—but I just want you to judge their work fairly.  That's not too much to ask, is it?"  She clenched her jaw as Snape thrust his hands into her mahogany hair, rubbing his thumbs against her temples as he gazed hungrily into her face.  "Also, I don't want this—relationship—to have any bearing on how you treat them.  If you're angry with them, or me, for any reason…" She drew a deep breath. "…you take it out on me.  Not on them."

He brought his face close to hers.  His breath was warm against her skin and smelled like cinnamon.  "That's quite selfless of you, Aeryn," he purred.  "But if I am to agree to these requests, I have some of my own that I want obeyed."

Aeryn swallowed.  "Fair enough."

"You will not breathe a word of this to another living soul, for obvious reasons."  His hands slipped from her hair and down her back.  "You will be at my beck and call for as long as I desire to continue this relationship, and you will give me whatever I ask for without complaint."  His arms wrapped firmly around her hips and pulled her body close against to his.  "You will not attack me with any of your mutant powers, or I swear that I will kill you.  Do you understand?  In exchange, I will protect you from any mutant searches, from the Ministry of Magic or anyone else.  As for your friends—I promise not to be unduly unfair to them.  Satisfied?"

Her eyes were burning with despair, but she nodded bravely.  "Yes, Professor."

"Oh, please."  Snape nuzzled his face into her hair with a throaty growl.  "Call me Severus."  

Aeryn choked back a sob as his hands began to roam freely over her body.  _Think of nothing…think of nothing…_but his touch burned her like hot coals, and she bit her lip from crying out.

After a moment, the Potions master took her hand and led her through the antechamber into his bedroom.  Like the rest of his chambers, Snape's bedroom was lavishly decorated.  Rich tapestries lined the rough walls, and Aeryn's feet sunk deeply into the thick green carpet.  A large bookcase rested against one wall, near a small desk lined with parchment.  A delicate chandelier dangled from the high ceiling and lit the high wooden bed on the opposite side of the room.  The Potions master silently shut the door behind them, and Aeryn's heart plummeted.

With smoldering eyes of black fire, Snape slowly pushed Aeryn onto the bed.  His long fingers began to methodically undress her, and Aeryn closed her eyes to hold back the tears.

It did not take all that long in reality.  Snape was thorough and systematic.  Aeryn kept her eyes tightly shut through the duration, clenching her hands until the fingernails cut into the flesh of her palms.  After what seemed an eternity, the Potions master gave a loud gasp and slumped against her, breathing heavily. 

After a long moment, he heaved himself off of her.  "Seventy points…for Gryffindor," he panted.  

Aeryn curled into a small ball, cradling her head in her hands.  Tremors wracked her body, and her head was spinning crazily.  The silence, punctuated by Snape's heavy breathing, pressed unbearably against her.  She hopped out of the bed and ran on stumbling legs to the bathroom, feeling bile rise in her throat.  

She got to the toilet seconds before her stomach revolted and she vomited.  Her stomach was emptied far too quickly, but still she gagged, until it felt as if her intestines would come up as well.  The heaves subsided eventually, and Aeryn drooped against the floor, every muscle in her body feeling as if it had been stretched out of her skin and then stapled back into place.  After a moment, she crawled to her feet and stumbled to the sink.  She shakily rinsed her mouth out with water and glanced up into the mirror.  A pale-faced reflection with dark circles under its eyes stared back at her.  Aeryn looked away and splashed a handful of water across her face, fighting to bring her body back under her own control.

Snape was seated at his desk when she returned.  "Do you know, I believe Mr. Weasley has just received his first A in my class?"  He looked up, smiling, and waved a sheet of parchment in her direction.  "I believe congratulations are in order—to you, of course, not to him.  Fantastic performance, my dear."

Aeryn grabbed her discarded robe from the floor and pulled it on.  The fabric scraped uncomfortably against her skin.

"Leaving so soon?"  Snape rose from his chair.

Aeryn put her hands to her cheeks.  The blood was beginning to return.  As the Potions master walked towards her, she quickly headed for the door, but was stopped as Snape wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"Professor, _please_—"

With a sharp yank, he pulled her back to him.  "Severus," he corrected her, an icy grin twitching his lips.  His greasy black hair was streaked with sweat.  He placed a thin finger against her mouth.  "Say it."

Aeryn fought back a wave of revulsion.  "S-Severus," she stammered.  If she stayed in this room any longer, she wouldn't be able to control herself; she would try and kill him.  "Please, let me go."

His hand spidered against the small of her back, pressing her trembling body against his.  "What's the rush?"

"Professor, I have the—"

_"Severus."  _His voice became edged with iron.

"Severus," Aeryn choked.  _Dear God, please get me out of here_…. "I promised to watch Quidditch practice tomorrow.  If I back out, they'll know something is wrong."

He lifted a hand and tangled it in her chin-length mahogany hair, his coal-black eyes cutting into her.

 "Prof—Severus—"

He bent his head before she could duck away and mashed his face against hers.  Aeryn stiffened as he pried her lips open and brutally probed inside her mouth with his tongue.  Then he pulled away, and as his teeth caught her lower lip, he bit down swiftly.  Aeryn yelped as pain shot through her mouth, and she twisted away from him with a gasp.  

A throaty chuckle rasped from his throat.  "You may go," Snape whispered, and Aeryn stumbled back as his hands released her.  She put a hand to her throbbing lip as he slunk back to his desk.  She could feel her self-control slipping, and she ran out of his bedroom, out of his chambers, through the now-deserted Slytherin common room, and did not stop until she reached the entrance to Gryffindor tower.

"Golden Snitch," she growled as she skidded to a halt in front of the Fat Lady's painting.

"Dear me, child, you're out late this evening," the Fat Lady said sleepily, swinging open for her.  "What were you—" But Aeryn pushed past her and hurried into the common room.  She crept into the second year dormitory as quietly as she could.  The other girls were fast asleep.  Aeryn crawled into her bed, trying to ignore the screaming of her tortured muscles.

She lay awake for a long time, watching the cloudy night sky outside her window.  By the time she fell asleep, her pillow was wet with silent tears.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from the Blues Traveler song of the same name on their 'Four' album.  And just so you all know, I hated writing this chapter._


	18. Moste Potente Potions

Chapter 18:  Moste Potente Potions 

There was a soft tap on her shoulder.  "Um, Aeryn?  Hi."

Aeryn looked slowly up from her Charms homework.  It took her a moment to recognize the face above her as belonging to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.  "Oh…Oliver," she exclaimed weakly, forcing the remnants of a smile onto her face.  "Hi."

"Hi."  Oliver Wood grinned broadly at her.  He would have looked quite at ease were it not for the shuffling of his feet as he peered down at Aeryn's open book.  "Doing homework for Charms, I see.  Need any help?"

Aeryn pointedly ignored the muffled snigger from Ron as he buried his head in the spine of his spellbook.  "No, Oliver.  But thanks anyway."

"Oh.  Okay."  The faintest of blushes colored Wood's cheeks, and he shoved a meaty hand through his crop of blond hair.  "Hey, I was wondering—you're planning on coming to the Quidditch match this weekend, right?"  He laughed slightly, a nervous sound.  "Gryffindor against Slytherin.  It's going to be a great match."

"Of course she's coming," Harry murmured, and Aeryn could hear him straining not to laugh.  "She wouldn't miss her first Quidditch match of the season—she's got to cheer me on.  Right, Aeryn?" 

"Right," Aeryn agreed quietly, although Quidditch was the furthest thing from her mind at that moment.

"Oh.  Good."  Wood rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.  "Well.  Guess I'll see you then, huh?"

_Be nice to him_, Aeryn told herself as she looked into his anxious face.  She twitched her lips slightly.  "Sure, Oliver.  I'll be cheering for you."  This time the Quidditch captain truly blushed, and he hurried away from the table with a hastily mumbled goodbye. 

"Aeryn's got a boyfriend," Ron sang quietly, scribbling on his parchment.  Harry snickered.

Aeryn closed her eyes, tapping her quill against her forehead.  She was so tired, so very tired.  This past week had dragged on to eternity…she would not think about it…must not think about it…with a great effort, Aeryn forced her attention back onto her book.

A shriek interrupted her studying, and Aeryn looked up just in time to see Ron's Charms homework go up in flames.  Ron's face grew almost as red as his hair, and he slammed _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _shut.  "This…stupid…wand!"  he fumed, holding up the said object.  The cracked piece of wood, bound together with Spellotape, spat weakly at him.  Ron's wand had broken when he and Harry had crashed his father's flying car into the Whomping Willow, and it had caused Ron nothing but trouble for the entire semester.  One memorable backfire had caused him to vomit slugs for an entire day.

Hermione slammed her book shut as well, looking pensive.  "I've been thinking about the Chamber of Secrets," she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a previous conversation.  "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts?"

For the past week, the school had talked of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris.  Filch did his best to make sure the students kept the matter in the forefront of their minds.  He kept pulling students out of the hallway and giving them detentions for 'smiling too much' and 'breathing too heavily.'  But the school also buzzed about the potential mutant threat—_and _the Chamber of Secrets.  Hermione had even gotten the dry, dead Professor Binns to comment on this most interesting tale during History of Magic class—a great feat indeed, since the ghost was distinctly proud that he taught _facts, _not myths and legends.  

The Hogwarts founder Salazar Slytherin had wanted only students from all-magical families to be admitted into Hogwarts, and he eventually left the school because the other founders would not agree with his point of view.  But, according to legend, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle that would only be opened when his true heir arrived at the school.  The Chamber of Secrets, as it was called, housed a 'horror within' that would be used to purge Hogwarts of all who were unworthy to study magic.  Aeryn personally thought the whole Chamber of Secrets idea a load of crap.  Her friends, however, had different ideas.

"Let's think," said Ron in mock puzzlement, "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

He looked at Hermione.  Hermione looked back, unconvinced.  "If you're talking about Malfoy—"

"Of course I am!"  said Ron.  "You heard him—_'You'll be next, Mudbloods!'—_come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him—"

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" Hermione said skeptically.

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too.  "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it.  They could easily be Slytherin's descendants.  His father's definitely evil enough."

"They could have had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron.  "Handing it down, father to son…."

"But what about this mutant thing?"  Hermione asked.  "That's got to be taken into consideration."

"Why on earth does everyone think that it was a mutant attack?" Aeryn asked, keeping her head bowed over her books.  "What on earth would a mutant have to gain by getting rid of everyone who isn't a pureblood?" 

"Like I've said before, maybe Malfoy's a mutant, too."  Ron shrugged.

"I don't think Slytherin's heir would be a mutant," said Aeryn, a bit more sharply than she had intended.

"You never know," Ron said sagely.

Hermione snorted.  "Besides, Malfoy can do magic.  We've all seen him do it."

"That doesn't mean," said Ron, wagging his finger mockingly at Hermione, "that he's not a mutant."

"It could be possible," Harry commented.  "Maybe Malfoy—or the Heir of Slytherin—his being a mutant taints his pure blood, so in a weird way, getting rid of Mudbloods and Squibs is sort of revenge."

 "Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible…."

"But how do we prove it?"  said Harry darkly.

"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further.  "Of course, it would be difficult.  And dangerous, very dangerous.  We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect—but we need to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."

"But that's impossible," Harry said as Ron laughed.

"No," said Hermione, "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion.  Oh, you know what that is—" in response to Ron and Harry's confused looks— "Snape mentioned it in Potions a few weeks ago—it transforms you into someone else!  Think about it, us four could change into Slytherins, and Malfoy would probably tell us anything."

Aeryn flipped a page in her _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.  _Getting into the Slytherin common room…images of green globes and rough walls sprang unbidden into her mind…she clenched her hand in a fist and stared into her spellbook.

"And what if we wind up looking like Slytherins forever?" Ron asked.

"Oh, it wears off after a while," Hermione said impatiently.  "I can make it, no problem, but getting hold of the recipe will be difficult.  It's in a book called _Moste Potente Potions _and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library."

"And we'd need a signed note of permission from a teacher to get it," Harry said flatly.  "No go, Hermione.  No teacher is going to give us permission to go get a restricted book."

"I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance…"

"Hermione," Harry sighed.  "It's not going to work."

A thoughtful look crossed Ron's face, and he put a hand on Harry's arm.  "It could," he said slowly.  "What if we were getting the book for research in Snape's class?" 

Aeryn's nails dug into her palm.  

"Ron," Harry said.  "Snape is not going to give any student, especially _us, _permission to the Restricted Section of the library."  

"Not _us," _Ron said slyly.  "Aeryn."

Green globes, a roaring fire with no heat, a darkened chamber…she would not listen, _could not _lose control….

"You know she's Snape's favorite student, even though she's not a Slytherin," Ron argued.  "He'd probably even give her the password to the Slytherin chambers if she asked for it!"

_Heir Apparent…._

Ron glanced over at her.  "What d'you think, Aeryn?"

Her Charms homework crashed to the ground, and Aeryn was on her feet, blindly stumbling away from the table.  Her breath came in heaving gasps, and she pressed her hands to her face, fighting back panic.  Ron hadn't meant anything by it, there was no way he could know…but she screwed her eyes shut as she felt the memory of Snape's hands wandering over her body, and she bit back a whimper.

Before Friday, she had been a virgin.  That was almost the worst part of it, magnified by the humiliation and pain Snape's coal-black eyes inflicted if he so much as glanced her way.  The trauma of her parents' deaths and years of cleaning houses had steered her clear from the dating market.  The closest thing she had come to a relationship was going out for burgers with her sensei, Marshall, one evening after karate class.  She had always assumed…always thought that she would wait until marriage, or until she was with someone she truly loved.  Being molested by her teacher had never played into her fantasies.

Snape's knowing smile haunted her every footstep.  Potions had become unendurable.  While her friends marveled at their sudden onslaught of A's, Aeryn endured the furtive caresses of the Potions master as he passed her desk during lecture, or the whispered words into her ears as he leaned over her to peer in her cauldron.  Even on Wednesday, the only day they didn't have Potions and the one day she thought she could escape him, Snape caught her in the halls as she hurried to Gryffindor tower.  He probably would have pulled her into his office for an extra study session—as he called it—were it not for the appearance of her friends upon the scene to rescue her.  But thwarting him that afternoon had not bought her any release.  

Aeryn's eyes grazed to the grandfather clock next to the fireplace.  Nine-thirty-five, and he had requested her presence in his chambers tonight, at midnight…

She felt a hand on her arm.  "Aeryn?" came Harry's voice at her shoulder, suddenly tense.  She turned, slowly.  Concern was etched plainly across the boy's thin face.  "What's the matter?"

Ron was immediately at her other shoulder.  "Aeryn, you okay?"

_Breathe in, breathe out…. _The Gryffindor common room had gone suddenly quiet, and Aeryn could feel every eye turning curiously towards her.  _You can handle this, you can do this…._

"Miss Blake, what is the matter?"  Professor McGonagall swept over to Aeryn, followed closely by Hermione.  

Aeryn gulped.  "Nothing," she lied hastily.

The deputy headmistress put a hand to Aeryn's forehead.  "You're sweating," she said firmly, her eyes glittering through her square-rimmed glasses.  "Do you need to go see Madame Pomfrey?"

"No," Aeryn gasped.  The last thing she needed was a visit to the school nurse—talented Aeryn was, but she wouldn't be able to hide any of her new-made bruises from Madame Pomfrey.  If she found out…and then Snape found out….

Professor McGonagall looked down at Aeryn sharply.  "Are you certain?"

"Positive."  Aeryn pressed her trembling palms flat against her side.  "I'm just…stressed.  It's been a long week."  She tried to smile reassuringly.  

Professor McGonagall did not look totally convinced at Aeryn's explanation, but she patted the girl on the shoulder.  "Make sure you get to bed early tonight then, Miss Blake," she said.  "You'll want to be well enough to watch the Quidditch match on Saturday."

"Of course," Aeryn whispered as the head of Gryffindor House walked away.

"Are you sure you're all right, Aeryn?" Hermione asked in a low voice.  "You've gone all pale."

Harry didn't say anything.  He just looked at Aeryn curiously, his eyes owlish behind his glasses.

Ron looked about as sick as Aeryn felt.  "Look, Aeryn, I was just teasing when I said that about Snape," he murmured nervously.  "I didn't know it would bother you so much…we'll get some other teacher to get us into the Restricted Section, it's okay."

Aeryn nodded after a moment, not trusting her voice.  The Gryffindors were beginning to lose interest in her, and were turning back to their own conversations.  Aeryn's heart rate started to slow, and her breathing returned to normal.

"But who are we going to get?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," Harry snorted.  "You'd have to be pretty thick to not figure out that we wanted the book to make a potion."

Exhaustion settled over Aeryn like a heavy blanket.  "Why don't guys tell me when you figure it out," she said quietly, feeling her legs tremble beneath her weight.  She walked back to the table, gathered her homework, and headed for her dormitory.  Her nerves were stretched to the snapping point, and if she stayed with her friends for a minute longer, she might just fall to pieces.

*          *          *

"I don't want to do this," Hermione mumbled after Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Then let Aeryn do it," Harry said.

"Why do I have to do it?" Aeryn asked.  She had been in a foul mood all morning, and it was taking all her personal effort not to bite anyone's head off.

"Because you're a girl," Ron said patiently.  "Just coo and flutter your eyelashes, and Lockhart'll be putty in your hands."

Aeryn rolled her eyes and grabbed the note from Hermione's quivering hand.  "Fine," she snapped.  She stalked towards Lockhart's desk, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione following right behind her.

"Professor Lockhart?" she asked shortly.  "I need to get this book out of the library, just for some background reading."  She stuck the piece of paper under his handsome nose.  "But it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it."

"Oh?"  Lockhart took the note from her hand.  "What do you need this book for, if I may ask?"

"It's to help us understand what you say in _Gadding with Ghouls_," Hermione butted in eagerly.  "You know—about slow-acting venoms—"

"Ah, _Gadding with Ghouls!" _said Lockhart, smiling widely at Hermione.  "Possibly my very favorite book.  You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione, a faint flush staining her cheek.  "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer—"

"Well, I'm sure that no one will mind me giving the best student—pardon me, best _students_ of the year—a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill.  Both Aeryn and Ron's face twisted in revulsion as Lockhart scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it to Hermione.

"So, Harry," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag.  "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe?  I hear you're a useful player.  I was a Seeker, too.  I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces.  Still, if you ever feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask.  Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players…."

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and hurried away.  Aeryn turned to do the same, but Lockhart's voice reined her back.  

"Oh, Miss Blake, may I see you for a moment?"

Aeryn's shoulders tightened imperceptively.  She drew a deep breath and plastered a pleasant look on her face.  "Yes, Professor Lockhart?"

His blue eyes twinkled at her as he leaned across the desk.  "I hope you don't think me nosey for asking this," he whispered, "but why are you so suddenly interested in slow-acting venoms?"

Aeryn couldn't name a slow-acting venom to save her soul, but after a split second of indecision, she leaned across the desk comradishly.  "You know how Hermione is," she whispered back with a wink.  "She's always thirsty to gain more knowledge about all things magical."

Lockhart smiled, reaching over and patting her hand.  "Who am I to stand in the way of such zealous learning?  Thank you, my dear."  He looked as if he was going to say more, but his face suddenly clouded, and he pointed to her neck.  "Miss Blake, you have something on your throat."

The syrupy smile on Aeryn's face froze.  "What?" 

"It looks like a bruise," Lockhart said, his voice very odd.

Aeryn clapped her hand to her neck, feeling her face drain of color.  No, it couldn't be, she'd checked very thoroughly that morning and skillfully applied enough makeup to hide anything…she stared at Lockhart, her eyes wide.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher shrugged.  "My mistake.  It was just a trick of the light."  He leaned back in his chair and twirled his peacock quill between his fingers.  "Well, see you at the Quidditch match tomorrow.  Oh, and Miss Blake—" The smallest of grins touched his lips.  "Enjoy Potions class."

Aeryn practically flew out of the classroom to catch up with her friends.

"I don't believe it," Harry said as the four of them examined the signature on the note.  "He didn't even _look _at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless _git," _said Ron.

"He is _not _a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they half ran to Potions dungeon.

"Just because he included you in the best students of the year statement is no reason to coo over him," Ron grumbled as they pushed open the dungeon door.  "Why don't you take a page out of Aeryn's book?  She's smart enough not to lose all her brains whenever Lockhart looks at her." 

Aeryn made a beeline for her desk, keeping her eyes on the ground as she dropped into her chair.  She folded her hands on the top of her desk, gathering the composure she would need to make it through the next hour.

"Hey, Aeryn."  Harry slid into the seat next to her.  "How're things going?"

"They're fine," she said flatly.

"You haven't been acting like yourself lately."  Something in his voice caused her to turn sharply and look at him.  Harry's eyes were very bright behind his glasses.

"What do you mean?"  She kept her voice even.

He shrugged, but Aeryn could feel the underlying tension edging his movements.  "I just don't remember the last time I heard you laugh," he said quietly.

Aeryn put a hand on his arm.  "Harry," she began.  "I'm—" The bell rang shrilly, cutting into her words, and she stiffened, waiting for Snape to sweep from the storeroom and begin his usual scathing lecture.  But he did not appear.  After an uncomfortable moment, Aeryn directed her attention back to Harry.  "It's not that—I'm just under a lot of stress right now," she said, looking him straight in the eyes.  "It's been a while since I was last in school.  I'm just not used to all this work." She smiled, or made an attempt to do so.

A line of worry creased Harry's forehead.  "You sure?"

"Yeah," she lied.  "I'd tell you if something was wrong, believe me."

"Okay," he said, but he didn't look quite convinced.  Aeryn drew a deep breath and opened her bag.

A sharp whistle caused her to look up.  Draco Malfoy was at the front of the class, strolling back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back.  Crabbe and Goyle flanked him, their arms crossed.  They only needed dark sunglasses and slicked hair to look exactly like Secret Service agents, albeit Secret Service agents with the collective intelligence of an eggplant.

_"Where _is our professor?" Malfoy asked.

Everyone else seemed to be wondering the same thing.  Snape was never late for class, not even by a second—that way he could take a quick ten points off from Gryffindor for latecomers. 

"Why don't you tell us where he is?" called Seamus Finnigan from the back of the room.  "He's your Head of House, after all."

Malfoy shrugged, a slow, deliberate movement.  "Who knows?  None of us have seen him all day."  

That caused Aeryn and her friends to sit up straight in their chairs.  Harry and Ron shared a quick glance, raising their eyebrows at each other.

Malfoy raised a hand to quell the sudden babble of the students.  "So, due to the absence of Professor Snape this afternoon," he began in a grand voice, "I suggest that my esteemed colleagues—of the Slytherin variety, of course—oust all the less-than-satisfactory magic users from class."  He grinned evily.  "Oh, excellent, we're with Gryffindor.  This should leave us with—oh, maybe two or three of you lot—"

"Mr. Malfoy, please find your seat," choked a strangled voice from the back of the room.  

The entire class turned as one, ready to cringe back from one of Snape's stinging comments, but their faces became fixed in surprise as they stared at their Potions master.  Snape's complexion had always been sallow, but today his skin was as pale as a fish's underbelly.  His greasy black hair was matted into limp strings, and his face glistened with sweat as he—there was no other word for it—_staggered _up to the front of the room, accompanied only by waves of shocked silence.  His breathing was labored as he grasped the edge of his desk to steady himself.

Aeryn's jaw slowly dropped.  The professor looked as if he was in the second-week throes of influenza, although she knew that was impossible.  He had been healthy enough last night….

Snape poured himself into his chair, his breath sounding like a rasp against steel.  "Mr. Malfoy."  The eyes he turned on Malfoy were unusually bright, like those of a man burning with fever.  "Since you are so anxious for class to begin…pray tell me…give us an example of an untraceable poison."

Malfoy chuckled, a noise echoed by the rest of the Slytherins.  "But we haven't learned about untraceable poisons yet, Professor," he said sweetly.

The muscles in Snape's jaw contracted.  "It was in your reading for today, Malfoy."  

Malfoy blinked, his smug face suddenly confused.

"But Professor," grunted Millicent Bulstrode.  "We didn't have a reading due today."

"Don't…second guess me…" Snape gasped.  He brushed a hand across his forehead, as if trying to clear away cobwebs dangling in front of his face.  "I assigned that reading three days ago…."

Malfoy turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who merely looked at him blankly.  Aeryn glanced around the room.  The rest of the class looked just as confused as Malfoy.  Even Hermione, the one with all the answers, was mumbling to herself and paging through her Potions spellbook.

Snape wiped a trickle of sweat away from his cheek with the back of his hand.  "Well, Malfoy?"

"Uh…." For the first time since Aeryn had met him, the pretentious pureblood was at a loss for words.  "I, er…."

"Perhaps one of the Gryffindors can help you," Snape said, his voice tight.  "Can anyone…."  He winced sharply.  "Can someone…answer…."

Hermione raised a hesitant hand.

"_Someone _besides…Miss Granger," Snape growled.  The rest of the Gryffindors shrank back against their chairs.  

"Either one of you answers, or I take ten points from Gryffindor."  Snape's hot gaze flashed around the room, and finally latched onto Aeryn.  "Miss Blake."  His voice tripped slightly over her name.  "Enlighten us…with your intellect…."

Aeryn slowly rose to her feet, thinking quickly.  If he wanted an example, an example was what he was going to get, whether it was good or not.

"One of the most widely-known untraceable poisons is…um…iocane powder," she began, her voice grating in the base of her throat.  Hermione looked up from her spellbook and shook her head frantically, trying to attract Aeryn's attention.  Aeryn ignored her.  "It is a tasteless, odorless substance that is made by combining the…crushed teeth of newts and powdered dragon's scales."

As Aeryn paused to draw a breath, the Potions master spasmed in his chair, his face twisting in agony.  His fingertips, resting against the top of his desk, pressed so hard against the wood that they turned bone-white.  A moan escaped from between his clenched teeth.  A gasp arose from the assembled students.  

Aeryn's skin began to crawl, but she went on with her speech.  "Iocane powder, when taken in a large enough quantity, delivers death within ten seconds of being imbued.  The instant iocane powder comes in contact with skin, blood stops flowing through the veins and begins to congeal."

Snape's breath was hissing from his throat like steam from a boiling teapot.  Neville Longbottom was cowering so low in his seat that only his eyes could be seen over the top of the desk.  Even some of the Slytherins were beginning to look frightened.  

"An immunity can be built up to iocane powder," Aeryn continued, watching Snape's twitching muscles with detached interest, "but only through years of laborious, painful—"

A strangled cry broke through her words, and Snape buckled against the top of his desk, trembling violently.  Heavy silence descended upon the classroom like a curtain.  Aeryn closed her mouth and slowly sat down.  She did not feel sorry for him—not in the slightest—but Snape's heavy breathing echoed through the still chamber, and a chill ran down her spine at the sound.

After a long, unbroken moment, Snape lifted his head.  A wet slick coated the desk where his forehead had been.  He shut his eyes and gulped several large breaths.  "I am afraid…that I will be unable to continue…the lesson for today," he said quietly.  His thin cheeks had gone gray.  "Class is dismissed."

The students stared at him, not daring to move.

_"Now!" _Snape roared, and the students leapt to their feet, jostling each other in a frenzied attempt to get out the dungeon.  With a lingering look at Snape, who was clutching his head in his hands and muttering brokenly to himself, Aeryn slipped out of the room behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Whoa."  Harry shook his head as they walked up the stairwell to the main floor.

Hermione swallowed.  "What was the matter with him?"

"Who cares?" Aeryn muttered automatically.

As soon as the words passed her lips, Aeryn knew she shouldn't have voiced them.  Her friends stopped dead in their tracks and stared at her with wide eyes.  "Aeryn, don't be cruel," Harry said, shocked.  "Sure, _I_ don't like Snape, none of us do, but he was in real pain!"

_Nice going, hotshot.  _Aeryn pressed her hands over her eyes, mentally cursing herself.  "Sorry," she said.  "Sorry, I just…I mean…" She bit her lip.  "To tell you the truth, I don't know what to say.  Maybe it was something he ate."

There was a very awkward pause.

"Let's get to the library," Ron said hastily, heading towards that direction.

"By the way, Aeryn, there's no such thing as iocane powder," Hermione said in a quiet voice as they followed Ron.  "I looked."

"I know," Aeryn said calmly, breathing a wordless apology to William Goldman.  "I didn't do the reading, and I figured Snape was going to take ten points from Gryffindor no matter what I said.  So I thought I might as well have a little fun while I was at it."

But the memory of Snape's tortured breathing echoed in every footstep on the way to the library. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_You all had better know where the iocane powder reference comes from!  ;D  Many thanks to William Goldman for that tidbit, which can be found in either the book or the movie 'The Princess Bride.'_


	19. It's All In The Game

Chapter 19:  It's All In The Game 

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed _The Polyjuice Potion.  _It was decorated with drawings of people halfway transforming into other people.  Aeryn sincerely hoped that the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces.

The four of them were barricaded in the out-of-order girl's bathroom, huddled into one of the stalls as they peered at the mold-eaten pages of _Moste Potente Potions._  Moaning Myrtle, the bathroom's resident haunt, was blubbering morosely in one of the stalls next to them, but they were ignoring her, and she them.

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Hermione as they scanned the recipe.  "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients.  "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves…oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn—don't know where we're going to get that—shredded skin of a boomslang, that'll be tricky too—and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply.  "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into?  I'm drinking _nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it—"_

Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard him.  "We don't have to worry about that yet, because we add those bits last…."

Aeryn ran a finger down the spotted page.  "Hermione, have you realized how much we're going to have to _steal?"  _Half of the ingredients she had never heard of, much less owned.  

"Shredded skin of a boomslang…." Harry shook his head.  "What're we going to do, break into Snape's private storeroom?"  He shuddered at the thought.  

So did Aeryn.  If they stole from Snape, and were caught…the idea of what he would do to her made her head spin.  She bit her lip and tapped the page.  "I don't know if this is a good idea.  Think of how many school rules we're going to break…and how many points we'll get taken from Gryffindor if we're caught," she added, knowing that Hermione would usually rather die than take any points away from their House.

Hermione shut the book shut with a snap.  "Like you should talk about breaking rules," she said in a low voice.

Aeryn looked at her quizzically.  "What on earth are you talking about?"  

"I'm talking about you sneaking out after hours!"  Hermione snapped.  "Two times this week I woke up in the middle of the night, and you weren't in your bed!"

Harry and Ron stared at Aeryn.

"What do you mean, I wasn't in my bed?"  Aeryn asked indignantly, feeling her face grow hot.  "I was there!  You must have just woken up when I went to the bathroom or something!"

Hermione's lips tightened.  "Both nights I stayed awake until _three in the morning _until you finally came crawling back to the dorm!  You know that leaving the dorm after lights-out is at least twenty points if you're caught.  So don't act as if you're worried about breaking rules!"

"What were you doing out after hours?" Ron asked curiously.

"I…."  Aeryn couldn't think of a fast retort.  She could feel her face growing redder by the second as her three friends looked at her, waiting for an explanation.  "What I was doing is none of your business," she snapped finally, glaring at Hermione.  "The point is that we shouldn't be making this potion.  It's too risky."

"Risky, my foot!  Well, if you three are going to chicken out, fine," Hermione said.  There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual.  "_I _don't want to break the rules, but I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion.  But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madame Pince now and hand the book in—""

"Good God, Hermione, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be persuading us to break school rules," said Ron.  

Hermione lifted her chin determinedly.  "This is important to me, Ron."

Ron sighed.  "All right, we'll do it.  But not toenails, okay?"

Harry shrugged in defeat.  Aeryn folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at her friends, hoping that the irregular thumping of her heart wasn't audible in the small bathroom stall.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at her.  "Aeryn?  What d'you say?"

Aeryn swallowed.  She really didn't have much of a choice.  "Okay, fine.  I'm in, too."

"How long is this potion going to take to make, anyway?" said Harry.

"If we get all the ingredients, it'll be ready in about a month," said Hermione, looking much happier as she opened the book again.

"A month?" said Ron.  "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!"  But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

But as they crept out of the bathroom, ignoring Moaning Myrtle's groans, Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered loudly, "It'll be a lot easier if you just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."

*          *          *

Large banners emblazoned with the House colors fluttered in the air above the Quidditch stadium, decorating the field with a multicolored tapestry.  On one side of the field hung a golden lion against a scarlet background; on the other, a silver serpent twining on a field of green.  

"We are going to _demolish _Slytherin," Ron said.  He, Aeryn, and Hermione were bundled up in a blanket in the Gryffindor section.  Since the day was so chilly, they had decided to forego their usual school robes and were wearing jeans, tennis shoes and heavy sweaters.  "It doesn't matter how good those Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones are that Malfoy's dad bought for the team…it'll take more than a fancy broom to beat Harry to the Snitch!"

"He'd better," Aeryn joked, looking out across the field.  The stadium was packed.  Scarlet and gold winked between the sea of students, with one very small section waving flags of silver and green.  "It's my first real Quidditch match, after all…I want this to be a good memory!"  

"Hey, Ron, Hermione!"  Neville Longbottom waved at them from several rows down.  "Hi, Aeryn!  Think we'll win today?"

Hermione cupped her hands around her mouth.  "You bet!" she called, getting to her feet.  "We've got the best Seeker in fifty years, and he didn't have to _buy his way onto the team!"_  A loud cheer erupted from the Gryffindor section with her words, drowning out the boos and hisses from the Slytherins across the stadium.

"Granted, the Slytherin team is very good," Aeryn said as Hermione sat back down.  "I saw them practicing on the field a few days ago…their Chasers can probably outfly even Angelina, and their Beaters are each as large as Fred and George put together."

"Yeah, but Malfoy'sthe Seeker," Hermione scoffed.  _"Malfoy.  _The Snitch could be sitting on his shoulder and he wouldn't see it!"

"Don't _even _suggest that the Slyths could win, Aeryn," Ron said warningly.  "You'll jinx us, and then we'll lose."

"We're not going to lose," Aeryn said happily.  She hadn't felt this good in weeks.  Due to his mysterious sickness, no one—including her—had seen Professor Snape since Potions class the day before.  Although some of the students were concerned at his sudden disappearance, Aeryn had been free of his wandering eyes for an entire day, and—the best part—he hadn't called her to his rooms that evening.  Even the impending doom of Slytherin's Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones couldn't dampen her spirits.  Aeryn put a hand over her heart and lifted her eyes to the skies.  "As a symbol of my belief in our team, I swear that if Slytherin wins this match, I will…." She paused, trying to think of a suitable punishment.

"Run across the field naked," Ron suggested.

Aeryn's eyes glittered mischievously.  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Ron made a face.  "Not particularly."

Aeryn punched him in the arm.

"Ow.  You punch like a girl."  But Ron was grinning as he rubbed his arm.

"You wouldn't really, would you?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Hermione," Aeryn said.  "I could swear to eat twenty-five tons of Hagrid's treacle fudge, but it wouldn't matter, since _Gryffindor is going to win the match!"  _The last words were shouted at the top of her lungs, and were echoed by a resounding cheer from the Gryffindor section.  Across the field, someone in the block of green and silver began a heavy cry of "_Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!" _until the entire House was chanting.

"_Gryffindor!  Gryffindor!" _Aeryn, Ron, and Hermione yelled, pounding their fists against their seats.  The rest of the Gryffindors joined their cry, and soon the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were all shouting with them, easily drowning out the Slytherin cheers.

Suddenly, a cheerful voice crackled through the air and cut through the students' cheers.  "It's cloudy and cold, but through it all, the Quidditch must go on!" sang Lee Jordan, die-hard Gryffindor and official Quidditch commentator.  "Welcome, teachers, students, and staff, to the first Quidditch match of the year…_Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"_

The crowd exploded in cheers.

"It's sure to be a good game today, folks," Jordan continued over the roaring of the fans.  "The Slytherin team has made some adjustments from last year, dropping their old Seeker and sprucing up their broom closet.  They've got the speed, they've got the power, _but _those Slyths don't have Gryffindor's Seeker, the fabulous Harry Potter, who'll fly circles around that smug, daddy's-boy Malfoy—"

"Jordan," Professor McGonagall called warningly.  "Remember, keep it objective."

"Right-o, Professor McGonagall."  Aeryn grinned.  Lee Jordan's bias for his team was legendary, as was his distaste for anything Slytherin.  "And now, without further ado, I give you…the brave, the proud, the best…_the Gryffindors!"_

The door on the left side of the stadium swung open, and the roaring of the crowd increased triplefold as the Quidditch team of Gryffindor walked onto the field.  Aeryn leapt to her feet, cheering and yelling at the top of her lungs.  Harry was at the very end of the team, and as he gave a very small smile to the Gryffindors, a deafening cry rose into the air.  Oliver Wood waved to the Gryffindors with a confident smile on his face as he walked to the center of the field.  His eyes found Aeryn in the crowd and he pointed to her and winked.  Ron dug an elbow into her side and she winced.

"And now, opposing the Gryffindor team…the slimy, the devious, the underhanded…."

_"Jordan!" _yelled Professor McGonagall from the stands.

"Sorry, Professor…let's give a hand for…_the Slytherins!"_

Aeryn, Ron, and Hermione booed as loud as they could as the door on the right end of the stadium opened, and the Slytherin team entered the stadium.  The team looked very sullen as they clutched their Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones in their hands.

Madame Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, made Oliver shake hands with Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain.  They did, with threatening glares and a grip so tight it turned their knuckles pale.

"On my whistle!"  Madame Hooch shouted.  "Three…two…one…."

The whistle blew shrilly, and the fourteen players mounted their brooms and took to the sky.  Aeryn, Ron, and Hermione shrieked and jumped up and down as Harry zoomed into the air like a lighting bolt, searching for the elusive Snitch.

"This is going to be _great," _said Hermione happily, settling back down in her seat.

Aeryn didn't comment, her eyes admiring as she watched Harry soar through the air.  He had been born to fly, she realized as he zipped around the stadium, his scarlet and gold robes trailing out behind him like a comet's tail.  He looked perfectly at home on his broom, as if nothing could phase or bother him….

At that moment, a heavy black Bludger whizzed over Harry's head, so close that it ruffled his unruly hair.

_"Ooh!" _cried Lee Jordan as the crowd gasped.  "That Bludger almost nailed Potter!  Those Gryffindor Beaters had better get their act together before their Seeker gets crushed to a pulp!"

"Close one, Harry," Aeryn muttered under her breath as George Weasley gave the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Slytherin Chaser Adrian Pucey.  But his whack did no good, for the Bludger instantly doubled back and veered straight for Harry.

After a few minutes, the Gryffindors' confident moods were beginning to dampen.  It was obvious that the Slytherin's superior brooms were just that—superior.  It seemed like only an instant before Slytherin was leading, forty points to zero.  The Bludger had not left Harry alone for an instant the entire game.

"What is going on?" Hermione cried in frustration, leaping to her feet and shaking her fist as one of the Slytherin Chasers scored yet another goal.

At that moment, it began to rain.

"Oh, great," grumbled Ron as a fat raindrop plunked on the end of his nose.

"Hold on a second," Aeryn murmured.  The mad Bludger was doing all it could to knock Harry out of the air, and George and Fred were flying so close to him that she could barely make out Harry's unruly head of black hair from where she sat.  She absentmindedly drew her wand out of her sleeve, and, with a perfunctory wave, threw a telekinetic field over their heads.  The rain stopped an inch over their hair and rolled harmlessly away from them.  All around them, other students were throwing up similar barriers or using umbrellas, if they were less skilled.

"Thanks," Hermione said, wiping a sleeve across her wet face. 

"For those of you in the stands who are not quite prepared for the inclement weather," Lee Jordan said confidingly as George Weasely batted the Bludger away from Harry with all his strength, "I can cast a Rain-Away Spell, in six different colors, for the small fee of—" 

"Jordan, stay focused on the game!" Professor McGonagall yelled.

"Of course, Professor—ooh, there goes Chaser Ford past Keeper Wood—he feints—nearly falls off his broom—and it's through!  Slytherin scores again, leading the game with sixty to zero!"

Up above the crowd, George was signaling frantically for a time out while he struggled to keep the Bludger from breaking Harry's nose.  Finally, Madame Hooch's whistle blew, and Harry and the two Weasleys dove for the ground, still avoiding the Bludger.

"Is that Bludger supposed to be doing that?"  Aeryn asked doubtfully as the Gryffindor team huddled on the center of the field, accompanied by boos and hisses from the Slytherin section.  "I didn't think they focused on just one player."

"They don't," Hermione said angrily, peering through the sheets of rain.  She slammed her fists hard against her legs.  "I'll bet you anything one of the Slytherins did something—fixed it so it wouldn't leave Harry alone."

"Bet it was Malfoy," Ron said darkly.  "If he messed with that Bludger and it makes us lose the match…." His face tightened terribly.

  
Madame Hooch was walking towards the Gryffindor clump.  On the other side of the field, the Slytherin team was jeering loudly, pointing in the direction of the other team.  "I'm going to go find out what's going on," Aeryn said decidedly.  She wriggled her way out of the row and ran down the stand, throwing another telekinetic shield over her head to keep away the rain.  A heated discussion was going on between the Gryffindor team, and she leaned over the railing to try and catch what they were saying.

"If we stop now, we'll have to forfeit the match!" Harry was saying.  "And we're not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger!  Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone!"

"This is all your fault," George Weasley said angrily to Wood.  "'Get the Snitch or die trying,' what a stupid thing to tell him—"

"Excellent game, don't you think, Miss Blake?"  came a cheery voice at her shoulder.  Gilderoy Lockhart was standing next to her beneath a chartreuse Rain-Away Spell, resplendent in a garish robe of scarlet, gold, green, and silver.  "D'you like my garments?" he asked, mistaking the contortion on her face for admiration.  He spread his arms and twirled around.  "I had them specially made for today.  I do love a good game of Quidditch, but I thought it would be unfair to root for just one House—so I thought I'd cheer for both instead!"

"Lovely," Aeryn said absently, leaning even further over the rail.  Madame Hooch had joined the Gryffindor huddle and was talking to Wood.

"Granted, it is a little wet out here, but it's no worse than the day I evicted twenty-four well sprites from a small town's water source in Gloucester!"  Lockhart looked curiously at the Gryffindor team.  "I must say, I've never quite seen a Bludger act like this one has been doing.  The only way Harry's going to find the Snitch is if it flies up his sleeve—he's got the Beaters flying around him like a cage.  I'm afraid Gryffindor might not have a chance at this match."

The team came out of their huddle.  Oliver Wood looked positively apoplectic, and Harry's face was white, but determined.  "He'll get the Snitch," Aeryn said confidently.  "We'll take the match, you'll see."

"Care to bet on it, Miss Blake?" drawled a cold voice, and Aeryn's body turned to stone.  Very slowly, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, she turned her head.  A loud cheer arose from the crowd as the Gryffindor team mounted their brooms and kicked off the ground, but all of Aeryn's attention was focused on the black-robed figure standing next to Gilderoy Lockhart.  

A thin smile twitched Professor Snape's lips, and Aeryn felt her throat constrict.  The Potions master looked healthier than ever.  His usual sallow color had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes were clear and lucid.  Even his greasy black hair looked as if it had been washed.

"Oh, excellent, it looks as if the match has resumed," Lockhart exclaimed, looking out at the field.  "Shall we return to the Slytherin side and find our seats, Severus?"

"Why don't you go ahead," Snape purred, his eyes locking onto Aeryn.  "I'll catch up in a minute.  I've got something to discuss with Miss Blake."  Lockhart shrugged and disappeared into the crowd, and Snape leaned his arms nonchalantly against the railing next to Aeryn.  Aeryn gulped and turned her head to the sky.  Harry was whirling in the air above her, trailed narrowly by the rogue Bludger.  She winced as the heavy ball nearly missed his head.

"Your Seeker seems to be having problems," Snape commented as Harry flipped upside down on his broom and dove for the ground.

"He's better by far than your Seeker any day," Aeryn growled, straining to see through the sheets of rain.  "At least Harry has talent.  You can dress your Slyths with fancy robes and brooms, but they're still nothing more than stupid clods."

Snape's thin fingers drummed against the rain-splattered rail.  "Very astute observation, _Aeryn_, but I dare to think that my team has just as much talent, if not more, than yours."

Aeryn bit her lip as Harry swerved to miss the Bludger yet again.  "Hardly, Professor." 

Snape's voice became as cold as the driving rain as Malfoy zoomed past Harry, laughing and pointing.  "I believe I told you to call me Severus."

Aeryn's fingers clenched around the rail.  She forced herself to breathe normally.  "We're in the middle of the Quidditch stadium, _Professor_.  I don't really think that calling you by your first name would be wise."

Snape was silent as they watched the teams twirl above them.  The Gryffindor team was beginning to look like desperate, drowned rats as the Slytherins scored yet another goal.  "Since you seem to be so sure of your team's abilities," he said musingly, "I propose a bet."

Aeryn's jaw clenched as Harry shot towards the ground an instant before the Bludger smashed into his head.

"If Gryffindor wins the match, as you think will happen, you shall be…given the weekend off."  He chuckled to himself as Harry nearly fell off his broom.  "However, if Slytherin wins, your presence will be requested in my chambers tonight at midnight."

"You're on," Aeryn growled, but inwardly groaned.  Harry was talented, but there was no way he would find the Snitch in this weather, especially not with that Bludger bearing down on him like a heat-seeking missile.  The rest of the team was valiantly struggling to gain back some points, but were having a hard time.  Marcus Flint broadsided Angelina as she zipped for the goal, and she almost fell off her broom.

"Are you certain about this, Miss Blake?"  Snape drawled, and Aeryn turned to glare furiously at him.  He smiled condescendingly at her.  "You might have a better chance at escape if you choose not to bet…who knows, I might take pity on you and give you a reprieve if your team loses…."

"I'll take that chance, thank you very much," Aeryn snarled.  Harry twirled in midair to dodge the Bludger, and Malfoy stopped near him, yelling something and laughing meanly.  Harry paused, glaring at the Slytherin Seeker—he paused, and Aeryn silently urged him to _move, move_—then, horribly, the rogue Bludger crunched into his elbow.

"HARRY!"  Aeryn screamed as her friend slid sideways on his rain-drenched broom.  If he fell from this height, he would be killed…She frantically quested out towards him—as the Bludger swerved for a second attack, this time for Harry's face, she _pulled _at it, moving it just enough for it to miss him.

"I think your Seeker broke his arm," Snape said calmly.  Aeryn barely heard him.  Her hands were clamped against the railing and she was straining towards the Bludger as it doubled back, ready to strike Harry again.

Stretching out his good arm, Harry dove straight for Malfoy's face.  Malfoy's eyes widened—Harry took his good arm from the broom and grabbed at something—then he was hurtling towards the ground, his knees locked around his broom, and Aeryn was struggling to kept the heavy Bludger from crushing his skull—Harry hit the mud and rolled off his broom.  An enormous roar rose from the Gryffindor section, and Aeryn realized finally that they had won, that Harry had caught the Snitch.  She gasped a huge sigh of relief as George and Fred Weasley zoomed up on their brooms and captured the rogue Bludger.  She let it loose once she was certain they had a firm grip on it, and looked wildly for Harry.  He was lying unmoving on the Quidditch field, his thin face white.

Ignoring the furious look contorting Professor Snape's face, Aeryn heaved herself over the grandstand rail.  Her feet squished uncomfortably in the mud as she landed, and she sprinted across the field to her fallen friend.  But Oliver Wood intercepted her before she reached Harry and threw his arms around her.

"Aeryn, we won!" he cried, hugging her.  His Quidditch robe was thick with mud, but the smile on his face shone like the sun.  "And it's all thanks to Harry, his best capture yet, I'd say—"

"He's _hurt!" _Aeryn shrieked furiously.  "You _idiot, _you told him to get the Snitch or die trying?  Well, thanks to you, he almost did!"  She struggled free of Oliver's arms.

Wood's face dropped.  "Aeryn, he's okay—" He held up an arm as she tried to throw herself towards Harry.  "_Aeryn!  _Listen to me, Gilderoy Lockhart just got down here, he'll take care of him—"

_"Lockhart?" _Aeryn screamed.  "Get him away from Harry, that git doesn't have the faintest idea what he's doing—" She broke free of Wood's grasp.  A group of bedraggled Gryffindors had gathered around Harry, and Aeryn pushed past them with more force than she had intended.

"Oh no, not you," she heard Harry groan.

"Doesn't know what he's saying," Gilderoy Lockhart said loudly as he kneeled at Harry's side.  "Don't worry, Harry, I'm about to fix your arm."  Harry quickly tried to sit up, but winced in pain as his arm folded beneath him.  Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor first year, hovered around the fallen champion, snapping pictures.

"Er—Professor Lockhart," Aeryn said hastily as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor rolled up his multicolored sleeves.  "Wouldn't it be best to take Harry to the infirmary?"

Lockhart ignored her.  "Stand back, everyone!"

"Help," Harry called weakly.

"No—don't—" Aeryn stretched out a hand, but Lockhart waved his arms, and a greenish light spread across Harry's broken arm.  A gasp arose from the assembled crowd, and Aeryn's jaw dropped as Harry's arm collapsed as if it had been pricked like a balloon.  Lockhart hadn't fixed Harry's bones.  He had removed them.

"Ah," said Lockhart.  "Well, yes, sometimes that can happen.  The important thing to remember, though, is that the bones are no longer broken.  Keep that in mind."

Professor McGonagall was instantly on the scene.  She took one look at Harry's limp arm and pursed her lips.  She waved her wand and a stretcher appeared out of thin air.  "Get on the stretcher, Potter," she said firmly, and Harry quickly obeyed.  The deputy headmistress glared at Lockhart, who merely gave a dazzling smile and waved at the crowd of Gryffindors.

"Hey, wait…stop," Harry said as the Gryffindor team began pushing the stretcher away.  They halted, and Harry half-raised himself on the stretcher.  "Aeryn…would you mind getting Ron and Hermione…."

"Sure thing, Harry," Aeryn said, after a glance at Professor McGonagall to make sure it was okay.  "I'll get them right away."  Harry waved weakly at her with his good arm as she hurried back up to the grandstand.  Professor Snape was standing where she had left him, his arms folded across his chest as he glowered at her.  Although she was still smoldering with rage at Lockhart, Aeryn smiled broadly.  "Gryffindor won," she said simply.  "Sorry about your bet."

Barely contained rage was etched across Professor Snape's sallow face.  "Miss Blake, you're all wet," he said finally.

For the first time, Aeryn realized that her jeans and sweater were soaked with rain.  She put a hand to her wet hair.  She had been so intent in stopping the Bludger that she had completely forgot to maintain the telekinetic field over her head.

_Oh no, I'll bet Ron and Hermione are furious…._ She looked up at that moment and saw her two friends running down the stairs towards her.  Surprisingly, they were still dry.

"You can't cast Rain-Away Spells worth beans, Aeryn," Ron said as he pointed to her drenched clothes.  "Yours disintegrated after Harry got hit with the Bludger, but fortunately Hermione was able to magic one up quick."

"Harry's all right?"  Hermione asked anxiously.

"That stupid git Lockhart tried to fix him up," Aeryn grumbled, "but he only succeeded in deboning Harry's arm, so now he's off to the hospital wing, and he wants us to take him."

"Then let's go," said Ron.  Hermione nodded in agreement.

They edged past Professor Snape, who still hadn't moved.  Aeryn could feel his eyes burning into her back as they ran down onto the field.

"I don't get it," Ron said under his breath.  "Snape looks like the perfect picture of health today.  What's with that guy?"

"I don't know," Aeryn muttered back.  _And that's exactly what bothers me_.  She remained silent as she, Ron, and Hermione pushed Harry's stretcher out of the Quidditch stadium towards the hospital wing.

*          *          *

Late that night, Aeryn tossed restlessly in her sleep.  Someone…in Hogwarts…soft, hissing voice…_unhuman_…crawling, slithering…the voice whispered in her mind…not far away….

_Rip…tear…kill…rip…tear…kill…._

Hunger…so long…must be satisfied….

_I smell blood…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD_….__

A bloodcurdling scream tore through Aeryn's mind, jerking her awake with a strangled gasp.  She sat up, drenched in a cold sweat, and looked wildly about her dorm.  All was quiet, save for the soft breathing of the other second year girls.  Aeryn breathed deeply, slowly putting her trembling hands to her head as her heart thumped madly in her ears.  The memory of the scream echoed in the recesses of her mind.

Every so often, when her guard was down, Aeryn could pick up stray mental projections, almost like a scanner picking up radio frequencies.  It had only happened a handful of times before—the most memorable time being when she had caught the thoughts of a burglar trying to sneak into her next-door neighbor's flat—she had alerted the police, and they caught the thief before he was able to even break a window.  Aeryn hated reading thoughts, although it was sometimes hard not to do so, but her telepathy picked up bursts of pure emotion loud and clear, whether she liked it or not.  

The cold, inhuman voice had been real, as had been the scream…an agonized scream, raw and painful…and it sounded as if it had come from very close by.  Aeryn closed her eyes and quested out through Gryffindor tower, down the stairs….

_…down the stairs…something was there_….__

Aeryn flipped the covers off and silently crawled out of bed.  She hesitantly cracked open the dorm door and hurried down to the common room.  She jumped as the grandfather clock began to chime sonorously: once, twice, three times.  After a moment, Aeryn crept from behind the portrait of the Fat Lady and started down the stairs, carefully questing out before her.  She caught the faintest presence of _someone, _but the thoughts were muffled, as if they were wrapped in cotton.

As she quietly leapt over the invisible step, she saw a dark blotch on the stairs below her.  She crept forward nervously, and gave a strangled gasp as she realized it was a student.  Colin Creevey, the Gryffindor first year who always had a camera in his hand and adored Harry, was lying on his back, his eyes wide and his trusty camera clenched tightly in his fist.  A bundle of grapes was scattered next to him on the floor.  Aeryn didn't have to be a true wizard to see that the first year had been Petrified.

She slowly kneeled next to his immobile figure and put a hand on his forehead.  "Colin?" she whispered, questing into his mind.  There was the faintest ghost of a thought…a fuzzy picture of a greenish blotch through a camera lens, a pair of bright, glowing eyes…but nothing more.  Aeryn bit her lip and pressed her fingers hard against his temples.  The boy's glassy stare made her skin crawl.  Maybe if she could reach him, somehow, she could break him out of this petrification.

_*Colin.*  _She thought at him as hard as she could.  _*Colin, are you there?*_

There was the slightest stirring of his mind.

*Colin, this is Aeryn Blake.  You're lying on the stairs of Gryffindor tower, and I think you've been Petrified.  Can you tell me what just happened?*

A fuzzy pair of glowing eyes drifted into her mind's eye.

_*Colin, did someone attack you?  Was that what you saw?*_

Harry…he was trying to visit Harry…down the stairs…_hissing_…turned around, looking through the camera…_glowing eyes…_then nothing, nothing at all, staring up at the ceiling, unable to move….

*Okay, Colin, I'm going to try and un-Petrify you, if that's possible…just relax, this won't hurt….*

Aeryn clenched her teeth and quested further into the recesses of his mind.  She wasn't sure exactly what she was trying to do; she had never done anything like this before.  Swirls of fear and uncertainty wafted over her as she gently probed his mind.  If only she could get a clear picture…but his brain seemed to have been Petrified as well as his body, and trying to get a bearing on his mind was like trying to hold water in a sieve.  She _almost _had it…if she could only….

"Miss Blake!  What…what are you doing?"

Colin's mind tore from her grasp as a harsh cry cut through the air.  Aeryn pulled her hands away from his head and turned to the source of the sound.  Her heart plummeted.  Professor McGonagall was standing above her on the stairs in her nightgown, her hair wild about her shoulders.  She stared at Aeryn, then the Petrified Colin, then back at Aeryn, her eyes shocked and condemning.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from the oldies song of the same note.  I don't remember who sang it originally, but Maureen McGovern does a bang-up job of it on one of her CDs._


	20. The Ministry Of Magic

Chapter 20: The Ministry of Magic 

"Professor," Aeryn gasped as she leapt to her feet.  "It's not—this isn't—"

The deputy headmistress silenced Aeryn with a wave as she hurried down the stairs.  Aeryn shrank back a step as Professor McGonagall knelt down by Colin and put a hand to his forehead, peering cursorily into his blank eyes.  After a long moment, she lifted her right hand and snapped her fingers three times.  _"Parlus Dumbledore," _she muttered, and a small ball of white light appeared in the air before her.  She flattened her hand and the orb settled into her palm.

"Albus," she said, bringing the orb up to her face.  "There's been another attack, this time on a student—Colin Creevey, one of my first years."  She glared blisteringly at Aeryn.  

"Professor McGonagall," Aeryn began desperately, "I know what this looks like, but—"

"Quiet, Miss Blake," Professor McGonagall said firmly.  Then, again to the orb: "Yes, I'll call the other Heads.  I'll meet you in the infirmary."  She waved her hand with a mutter of _"Parlus Aedes," _and the globe suddenly became a dull orange_.  _"Daisy—Merlin—Severus—come to the hospital wing immediately," she said tersely into the light.  "There's been another attack."  

The deputy headmistress clamped her fingers around the light, extinguishing the globe, and stooped to ease her hands under Colin's stiff shoulders.  "Help me carry him to the hospital wing, Miss Blake."

Aeryn locked her arms around Colin's ankles.  It was like trying to lift a marble statue, and she very nearly dropped him on her bare feet.  She finally got her footing and carefully edged her way down the staircase.  She could feel Professor McGonagall's accusing eyes on her with every step, but every time she opened her mouth to explain what she had been doing, she was silenced with a "quiet, Miss Blake" before she could offer so much as a peep.

She'll never believe I wasn't doing anything to Colin when she came by…oh, God, what'll Dumbledore think?  There's no way I can explain what I was doing out of bed…I'm going to be expelled for sure, no questions asked….

Before she knew what was happening, Professor McGonagall and Aeryn were heaving the statue of Colin onto an empty bed in the hospital wing.  "Wait here," Professor McGonagall whispered fiercely, and hurried out of sight.  Aeryn stood very still in the silence of the infirmary.  A ray of moonlight slanted across Colin's face and glittered in his sightless eyes.  She heard urgent voices, and then Professor McGonagall swept back into view, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey whispered in a shocked voice, bending over Colin.

"Another attack," said Professor McGonagall.  "I think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter." 

The headmaster was standing a step away from the bed, his arms folded.  Seizing the opportunity, Aeryn stepped forward and put a hand on his arm.  "Headmaster Dumbledore," she whispered urgently.  "I didn't have anything to do with this, honestly—"

But Dumbledore's eyes were somber, and he did not answer.

"All right, Minerva, what's this about another attack?" came the sleepy voice of Professor Flitwick.  Aeryn turned to see the three other Heads of House standing in the entrance to the infirmary.

Professor Sprout stepped through the doorway, dressed in a flowered nightdress.  She gave a soft gasp as she saw the boy lying on the bed.  "Petrified?" she asked in a strangled voice.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall.  "But I shudder to think…if I hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate—who knows what might have—"

The four Heads, Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey stared down at Colin.  Aeryn took a timid step backwards.  She entertained the notion of slipping away while the professors were engrossed with Colin…it would be a very simple thing, the door couldn't be more than ten steps away….

"Wait a moment," hissed a familiar, cold voice.  The Head of Slytherin House turned and pointed a long finger at Aeryn.  "What is _she _doing here?" 

The flashing eyes that Professor McGonagall turned to Aeryn were terrible.  "I found her on the stairs with Creevey," she said in a clipped voice.

Aeryn's mouth suddenly went dry as six pairs of eyes suddenly turned to her.  She could feel a trickle of cold sweat dancing down her spine as she struggled to swallow, to find the words to get her out of this predicament.  "I, uh, I woke up because…because I heard a scream," she stammered lamely, deciding to tell half of the truth.  "Um…it sounded like it came…it came from the stairs, so I…went down, and I saw Colin lying there…." The story sounded unbelievable, even to her ears.  "And so…I thought maybe…I could try to wake him up, and…well, then Professor McGonagall came by, and, well, that's what happened." 

There was an awkward silence.

"And did you even _think _of getting me to investigate?" the Head of Gryffindor House asked.

Of all the questions the deputy headmistress could have asked, Aeryn had not expected that one.  Aeryn stared at her, dumbstruck.  "I…um…."

"In case you didn't know before, Miss Blake, Hogwarts can be _very _dangerous, especially at night!" Professor McGonagall snapped.  "We impose the after hour rule just for that reason, but _obviously_ neither you or Mr. Creevey felt it necessary to heed our precautions that we, your _teachers, _decided to impose to protect you!"  

Aeryn's eyes widened at the boiling anger and…_concern…_edging Professor McGonagall's voice.  The professor wasn't grilling her because she thought Aeryn had Petrified Colin, she was chastising her because she was worried about Aeryn's safety! 

Professor McGonagall flung a hand towards the still figure on the bed.  "You're lucky to still be standing!" she said fiercely in a voice that was beginning to quaver.  "Your arrival on the scene could have scared the attacker away, but if _you _had been the first one down those stairs instead of Creevey, you could have _easily _ended up just like him!  Of all the stupid, irresponsible…." The professor's voice broke, and she put a hand to her mouth, turning her face away from Aeryn.  Professor Sprout quickly put a comforting arm around her shoulders, murmuring softly to her.

Aeryn, astonished, bit her lip.

After a long moment, Dumbledore slowly leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin's rigid grasp.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" asked Professor Flitwick doubtfully.

Dumbledore didn't answer.  He opened the back of the camera and there was a soft hiss, like steam from a teakettle.  The four Heads and Madam Pomfrey huddled around him.

"The film is gone," Professor Flitwick said in surprise.

"Odd," Professor Sprout said, frowning.  "Do you think maybe the attacker took the film out of the camera before he ran off?  To get rid of evidence, perhaps?"

Snape stretched out a hand.  "May I see it, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore handed the camera wordlessly to Snape.

"But I don't see how that would be possible," said Professor McGonagall in a much calmer voice.  "Albus had to pry the camera from Creevey's hands, and the attacker would have had to do the same thing.  Why go to so much trouble to remove the film, when it would have been easier just to take the whole camera?"

"The film wasn't removed," said Professor Snape, poking a long finger into the empty back of the camera.  

Flitwick stood on his tiptoes, trying to see into Snape's hands.  "What do you mean, Severus?"

Snape held the camera out to him.  "See this, Merlin?  It's been disintegrated—almost as if it was melted, somehow."  He twisted the camera in his hands, searching for more clues.  "Magic must have been used, or something else…."

"What does this _mean, _Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore slowly, speaking for the first time that evening, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a horrified hand to her mouth. Professor Sprout paled, and Professor McGonagall gasped.  "That's inconceivable," mumbled Professor Flitwick.

"That's a load of bunk," snapped Snape, but no one was listening to him.

"But, Albus," Professor McGonagall said.  "Surely…_who?"_

"The question is not _who," _said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin.  "The question is, _how…_and I believe there may be more here at work than any of us know."

The room fell silent as Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout looked at each other in bewilderment.  Professor Flitwick scratched his head, and Snape stood in the corner, glowering into the camera.

"I want you to meet me first thing in the morning in my office, before breakfast," Dumbledore said.  

The Heads nodded in agreement, and, with a final glance at the unmoving Colin, crept one-by-one out of the infirmary.

Headmaster Dumbledore turned his gaze to Aeryn, his twinkling eyes unreadable in the darkness of the room.  "I believe it would be best if you went back to your dormitory now, Miss Blake," he said quietly.

"You," Professor McGonagall exclaimed, grabbing Aeryn by the arm, "are going back to Gryffindor Tower _this instant.  _And twenty points from Gryffindor for being out after hours."  She practically dragged Aeryn from the hospital wing, muttering under her breath all the way.

"Professor, I'm sorry—" Aeryn began as they entered the common room.  

Professor McGonagall turned and looked down her nose at her.  "I don't want to hear any more about it, Miss Blake.  Be thankful I didn't give you a detention as well.  Now, good night!"  And with that, Professor McGonagall whirled to her chambers, leaving Aeryn standing alone in the middle of the room, feeling very confused.  But, as she tripped up the stairs to her dormitory, she couldn't help feeling the slightest bit relieved that she hadn't been blamed.

*          *          *

"I sure hope this works," said Ron as he gingerly dropped a leech into the cauldron.  He, Hermione, and Aeryn were crouched over one of the toilets in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  A waterproof fire, one of Hermione's specialties, was crackling in the toilet bowl, over which was placed an old cauldron.

"It'd better, since it's the only idea we've got," Aeryn said, wrinkling her nose into the sack of lacewing flies.  She was precariously squeezed into the back corner of the stall, her feet propped against the side of the toilet and her back pressed up against the wall.  "Eww, Hermione, some of these are still _moving.  _Did you have to get ones that were still alive?"

"We needed whole ones," the bushy-haired witch said calmly, sprinkling a pinch of wolfsbane into the cauldron.  "Don't squish them, or I'll have to go get more."

Aeryn crumpled the top of the bag shut.  "You know, just because—"

"It's me!" called a voice suddenly outside the stall.  Hermione gasped loudly, Ron dropped a leech into the toilet, and Aeryn lost her footing and crashed to the floor.  After a moment, Hermione peeked through the keyhole of the stall.

_"Harry!" she exclaimed.  She hurriedly unlocked the stall door.  "You gave us such a freight—come in—how's your arm?"_

"Fine," said Harry, squeezing into the stall.  He looked much better than he had the last time Aeryn saw him, and she was quite impressed at the regrowth of his bones.  His arm looked just like normal.  Aeryn crawled back to her feet, wincing as she rubbed her bruised behind.

"We'd have come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained as Harry, with difficulty, locked the stall again.  "We've decided this is the safest place to hide it."

Harry clumsily leaned against the wall.  "I'm sure you've already heard," he said, looking pointedly at Aeryn, "but you know Colin Creevey, that first year who's always—"

"Yes, we already know," Hermione interrupted.  "Aeryn told us all about it."  She glared sharply at Aeryn and flung a bundle of knotgrass into the cauldron.  Hermione had been none too pleased when she discovered that Aeryn had cost twenty points from Gryffindor for being caught on the stairway after hours.  "She still hasn't explained to Ron and me why she was out on the stairs in the first place."

"I already _told you, I heard a noise and I went to investigate," Aeryn said grumpily.  "And how did you know I was there last night, Harry?"_

"I was already up when you and Professor McGonagall came in with Colin," Harry said.  "But you weren't exactly quiet, you realize."

Hermione sniffed.  "Anyway, that's why we decided we'd better get going on the potion."

"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron.  "D'you know what I think?  He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."

"And there's something else," Harry said as Hermione threw another bundle of knotgrass into the potion.  "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."

Ron, Hermione, and Aeryn looked up, amazed.  Harry went on to explain his conversation with the house-elf—who, Aeryn realized, was the same house-elf that had gotten Harry in trouble with the Dursleys before he had been rescued from his house by the Weasley brothers.  According to Harry, Dobby was _also _the reason why he and Ron had been unable to get onto the Hogwarts Express in September.  For some reason, the house-elf felt that Harry's life was in danger if he remained at Hogwarts, and was trying his hardest to send him back home.  But that was not all Harry had learned from his midnight visitor.

_"Dobby fixed the Bludger so it would hit you?" Aeryn asked incredulously.  "Harry, if this creature doesn't stop trying to save your life, he's going to kill you!"_

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened _before?"  Hermione said._

"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice.  "Lucius Malfoy opened the Chamber when he was at school here, and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it.  It's obvious.  Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though—I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding the last of the leeches to the bottom of the cauldron.  "Or maybe it can disguise itself—pretend to be a suit of armor or something—I've read about Chameleon Ghouls—"

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron as Aeryn poured the lacewings on top of the leeches.  "Are we finished yet?  It's almost time for lunch, and I'm hungry."

After checking to make sure that the potion was brewing correctly, and casting an eye outside to make sure Perfect Prefect Percy—as Ron disgustedly called his older brother—wasn't turning the corner, the four friends slunk out of the bathroom, making their way to the Great Hall. Most of the other students had already started eating, so the four sat down in their customary seats at the Gryffindor table and dug into their plates with much gusto.

Aeryn had just taken a bite of her turkey sandwich when the dull roar of conversation in the Hall became suddenly quiet.  She turned and looked towards the front of the Hall.  Albus Dumbledore had risen from his seat at the staff table, and was holding a hand up for silence.

"If I may have your attention, please," the headmaster began, and all eyes turned to look at him. "As you may or may not have heard, there was an attack on a student last night, similar to the attack on Mrs. Norris." 

A surge of murmuring spread through the tables, but it was not, as Aeryn expected, murmurs of shock.  _News travels fast through the Hogwarts grapevine, _she thought as she saw several of the students' heads nodding knowingly.

"Fortunately," Dumbledore continued, and the crowd quieted down again, "Mr. Creevey is alive, and we are doing everything possible to restore him to his original state.  We are unsure of the details of Mr. Creevey's attack, but—" here he glanced over at Snape, who was frowning out into the sea of students— "it has been brought to my attention that the attack could have possibly been caused by a mutant."

Aeryn choked on a mouthful of her sandwich and started coughing.  The noise was painfully loud in the quiet Hall.

"While this theory is by no means certain, the other professors and I have decided to investigate every possibility.  Because of this, I have contacted the Ministry of Magic for their help in this matter.  A special task force from the Ministry will arrive at Hogwarts this evening.  Starting tomorrow, every student will be brought before the task force, the four Heads of Houses, and me to be tested."

Suddenly, Aeryn didn't have to worry about coughing any more.  Instead, she had stopped breathing.

"Now—" Dumbledore lowered his voice and spoke in a gentler manner— "it is my belief that all of you will pass this test with ease.  That being so, I still expect you to treat this matter seriously.  I trust that you will conduct yourselves in a manner that is fitting for students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Any misbehaving—no matter how lightly meant—will be dealt with harshly.  Please remember, we are doing this for your safety."

He waved a hand to the staff sitting on either side of him.  "Immediately following lunch, you will meet your Heads in your common room to discuss the schedule for the next few days.  Please feel free to ask them any questions you may have."  With that, the headmaster of Hogwarts lowered himself back into his chair and resumed eating his meal.

An intense murmur of voices filled the air of the Hall as the students slowly turned to one another.  Aeryn finally remembered to breathe, and promptly began choking again.

"Hey, you okay?" Harry asked.  He held out his goblet.  "Here, take a sip of pumpkin juice."

Aeryn took a sip, which calmed her coughing, but did nothing for her leaping heart.

"They don't _seriously _think Colin was attacked by a mutant, do they?" Ron asked scornfully.

"They must, if they're bringing in the Ministry of Magic to investigate," said Hermione.  "But I don't get it…Dumbledore _said _the Chamber of Secrets had been opened, so he _knows_ what happened to Colin."

"Well, maybe Slytherin's Heir hasto be a mutant to open the Chamber," Harry suggested.  "That would explain why he's bringing in the Ministry."

Ron looked pensive.  "D'you think," he said slowly, "that maybe 'the creature' that's in the Chamber of Secrets could be a mutant?"

"Ron," Hermione and Harry groaned at the same time, and Ron threw up his hands in defeat.  

*          *          *

Aeryn flew out of the House meeting the second it ended.  "Gotta go to the library," she called over her shoulder to Hermione, who was looking after her with a very puzzled look on her face.  Aeryn leapt out from behind the painting of the Fat Lady, down the stairs, and raced through the hallways to the entrance of the dungeons.  Down the winding stairs she ran, casting her mind out in front of her.  Snape was still in the Slytherin dungeon…in the common room…along with the rest of his House.  Aeryn skidded to a halt, nearly losing her footing on a patch of slime.  No matter how urgently she had to see him, running into the middle of the Slytherin common room with all the Slyths assembled was not an option.  She paused on the steps, torn over what to do.  

McGonagall's information session had been brief and to the point.  Gryffindor House would be the first House tested, followed by Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.  Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock in the Great Hall, "Aaron, Carol" would be tested, with the rest of the Gryffindors following in alphabetical order.  A group of thirty students would be sent to testing each hour.  The Great Hall would be closed, and meals would be served in the common room until Friday morning.  Professor McGonagall had been quick to explain that even though the four Heads would not be teaching their classes for the next four days, classes were still in session and homework still applied, although Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms would be taught by substitutes.

"No Potions with Snape until Friday!" Ron had exclaimed gleefully.

There was a movement in the Slytherin common room.  Aeryn closed her eyes, concentrating.  The meeting must be over…Snape was heading into his chambers…the Slyths were spreading out around the dungeon…and a few, she realized with a start, were heading up the stairway where Aeryn was standing.  She could even hear their footsteps echoing against the stone stairs.  Aeryn looked around frantically.  The staircase was narrow and smooth-sided, with no crannies in which to hide.  But the ceiling was a reasonable height….

With only minimal effort, Aeryn levitated her small frame and pressed herself flat against the stone ceiling.  The stairway was poorly lit, and Aeryn hoped fervently that her black robe would blend well enough against the dark ceiling.  With any luck, the light from the flickering torches would be too weak to give her away.

"Well, _I _think everyone's overreacting," sniffed the voice of Lucinda Vali, a second year that Aeryn recognized from Potions class.  She came into view up the stairs, talking with a third year that looked as if she had bitten into something sour.  "After all, it's only been a cat and some stupid first year."

"A _Gryffindor _first year," added the third year haughtily, "which makes it even less of a concern."  The two walked right beneath Aeryn, too engrossed in their conversation to glance upward.  "You can tell Professor Snape thinks this whole thing is ridiculous, too.  Just think how irritable he'll be by Friday!"

"Maybe if we're lucky, that know-it-all Hermione Granger'll be a mutant, and they'll kick her out of school," Lucinda sniggered.

The third year laughed meanly.  "Or Harry Potter, even!  Ha, that'd be a shock, Dumbledore's favorite student…."

Aeryn waited until the two were a safe distance away, then silently lowered herself to the floor.  As she walked down the stairs, her features began to subtly shift, and she reached the entrance of the Slytherin chambers fully garbed in the illusion of Lucinda Vali.

"Phoenix fire," she muttered, and the bare stone wall slid open.  Aeryn hurried through the Slytherin common room, keeping her head low and avoiding the students scattered through the room.  Her illusion was good, but she wasn't sure how well it would hold up under close scrutiny.  She walked through the long stone hallway and rapped loudly on the door to Snape's chambers.  He did not answer.  Undaunted, Aeryn pushed open the door and stepped into his opulent sitting room.

"Professor Snape?" she called, shutting the door behind her.

"Whoever you are, I gave explicit directions that I was not to be disturbed," growled the Potions master's voice from the direction of his bedroom.

Aeryn stomped across the Oriental carpet, the illusion of Lucinda slipping from her shoulders like an old coat.  "It's me, as you damn well know," she snarled, storming into his bedchamber.  "Well?  What am I going to do?"

Snape, seated at his desk, languidly turned at her entrance.  "Ah.  Aeryn.  I did wonder when I could expect the pleasure of your company."  He raised an eyebrow.  "I must say, though, this is sooner than I expected."

"Let me guess," Aeryn hissed, her hands curling into fists.  "You were the staff member that just _happened _to mention to Dumbledore that Colin could have _possibly _been attacked by a mutant, am I right?"

Snape's coal-black eyes narrowed.  "Headmaster Dumbledore asked my opinion," he said in a low voice, "and I, as a responsible professor, gave it to him honestly."

"Of course you did," Aeryn snapped, pointing a finger at his hooked nose.  "It's only a happy coincidence that you now have utter control over my situation."

His face hardened.  "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't play innocent with me!"  Aeryn's voice rose.  "You could have _easily _told the headmaster that there was no possibility that it had been a mutant attack, and then everything would have been _fine, _and the Ministry wouldn't be coming here, and I wouldn't have to worry about being discovered!"

Snape sighed.  "Really, Aeryn, there is no need to panic."

 "I HAVE EVERY REASON TO PANIC!"  Aeryn shrieked.  "The Ministry will be here at any minute, and _my House is the first one being tested!  _There's no _way_ I can be tested, they'll see I'm a mutant as soon as I raise my wand, I'll be expelled in a heartbeat, not to _mention _the very fact of being a mutant puts me as the prime suspect in all of the attacks, and—"

"Calm down," Snape hissed, getting to his feet.  "You're getting hysterical."

"WHY DIDN'T YOU DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.  "_YOU _WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP THINGS LIKE THIS FROM HAPPENING, REMEMBER?  THE AGREEMENT?  I HAVE KEPT _EVERY _PROMISE FROM MY END OF THE BARGAN, WHILE _YOU—"_

"QUIET!" roared Snape in a terrible voice, and Aeryn's words died in her throat at the fire blazing from his black eyes.  He grabbed her shoulders and bent his face to hers.  "I told Dumbledore my opinion because there is a possibility, however slight, that it could have been a mutant attack.  Believe me, if I hadn't thought so, I certainly wouldn't have planted the idea in his head."  A wry, malicious grin teased his lips.  "I don't want you to leave Hogwarts any more than you do."

Aeryn gritted her teeth.

"Now."  The Potions master's face relaxed slightly.  "I have a plan, if you will calm down and listen to me."

Aeryn lifted her chin.  "Do you really, or are you just saying that?"

His hands slid from her shoulders and he took a step back.  "When have you been assigned for testing?"

"I'm with the ten o'clock group," Aeryn said tightly.  Professor McGonagall had divided the Gryffindors into alphabetical blocks at the meeting.  "I'm probably the tenth or eleventh person in my block."

Snape's black eyes regarded her calmly.  "I want you to go to go to the Great Hall tomorrow at your appointed time."

Aeryn stared at him.  "That's your big plan?" she sputtered after a moment.  "Do nothing?"

"It will work," he said calmly.

Aeryn's ears were beginning to ring.  "I _can't_—"

Snape waved a hand, silencing her.  "And bring an extra robe when you go to the testing.  You can hide down your bodice—no one will notice a little extra padding there."  His eyes glittered maliciously.  "Painting the lily, as it were."

"That's _gilding_ the lily," Aeryn muttered stiffly, stifling the urge to reach out and slap him.

"No, the correct quotation refers to _painting, _not _gilding," _Snape corrected. 

"What does that have to do with—"

"To eliminate suspicion, Aeryn Blake has to be tested," the Potions master explained, looking at her pointedly.  "However, _you_ will not be tested."

Aeryn blinked at his cryptic phrase.  "What?"

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have some things to finish before tomorrow."  He sat back down at his desk, picking up the sheet of parchment he had been reading.  "I have no idea how you got into my chambers without being detected, but I expect you will leave in the same manner.  The last thing I need is my House buzzing with rumors."

Aeryn glared at his turned back.  "Are you going to tell me anything else about this plan of yours?"

"No.  Now leave me alone."

Aeryn folded her arms.  "Is this actually going to work, or should I start packing right now?" she asked sarcastically.

"Trust me," he drawled confidingly.  "Good day, my dear."

Aeryn, enraged, spun on her heel and marched out of his bedroom, tossing the illusion of Lucinda Vali back over her before she headed through the Slytherin common room.

*          *          *

"Ten o'clock block!" called the rat-faced Ministry wizard from the entrance of the common room.  The stern look on his face caused Aeryn to reconsider her idea of bolting back upstairs to the dormitory and hiding under her bed.  Fighting back the wave of nausea that suddenly swept over her, she got slowly to her feet.

"Best of luck, Aeryn," Hermione said, lifting her head from the depths of her homework.

Ron grinned at her.  "Don't worry.  You'll do fine."

"Ha," Aeryn exclaimed weakly.

Harry reached over and squeezed her hand.  "Knock 'em dead.  Figuratively, of course."

_Actually, that might not be that bad of an idea, _Aeryn thought as she waved to her friends and followed the Ministry wizard out of Gryffindor Tower with the rest of the ten o'clock clump.  Every step she took caused her stomach to sink lower and lower.  

"Sit down in alphabetical order," the wizard said curtly, waving to the long row of chairs that had been placed against the wall as the students reached the Hall's huge double doors.  Swallowing the frantic scream rising in her throat, Aeryn sat down between Michael Blaine and Rowena Burns.  She looked down the row towards the front of the line.  Ten people separated her from total disaster.  Her insides were leaping so violently that she was certain her intestines had been tied into knots.

The rat-faced wizard clasped his hands behind his back and looked smugly down the row of students.  "I shouldn't have to tell you this," he said condescendingly, "but what is going on in the Great Hall is of utmost importance.  You will wait quietly out here until it is your turn.  I will not tolerate any monkey-business, and you had best remember that."  He squared his spindly shoulders.  "Now, I believe they are ready to begin in there, so—"

The doors of the Hall suddenly flew open with a bang, and Snape stalked into the corridor, black robes swirling and his best snarl plastered across his face.  Aeryn could feel the Gryffindors collectively shrink against their chairs as the Potions master's blistering glare swept across the line.

His eyes snagged on Aeryn.  "_You._"  He crooked an accusatory finger at her.  "Come with me.  Now."

Aeryn leapt to her feet, trying not to look relieved.

"But—Professor—" the wizard stammered, his voice instantly respectful.  "We've got to start the—"

"This can't wait," Snape growled, grabbing Aeryn by the upper arm.  Although he looked as if he wanted to protest, the wizard stepped back as the Potions master forcefully dragged Aeryn away from the double doors and around a corner.  They silently hurried down the hallway until Snape veered and pulled open the door of a broom closet cleverly concealed behind a suit of armor.

"Necessity makes me almost thrilled to see you," Aeryn commented dryly as she stepped gingerly into the closet.  Snape muttered a word as he closed the door, and a weak blueish light illuminated the closet.  

"Did you bring the extra robe?" he asked.  The closet was crowded with so many rags, jars, and brooms that he and Aeryn were nearly standing nose-to-nose.

"Yeah."  With difficulty, Aeryn lifted up the bottom of her skirt, revealing the robe she had knotted to her left leg that morning.  She was wearing her loosest school robe, which had neatly hidden any added bulkiness of her form.  She untied the robe and handed it to Snape.  "Are you going to tell me now what this whole plan entails?"

Snape shook out the robe and held it up in front of him.  A frown creased his features.  "This one is blue."

Aeryn shrugged.  "So?"

"Why didn't you bring a black robe?"

"Because all of my other ones are in the wash," Aeryn answered.

Snape shook his head.  "You're wearing a black robe today, not a blue one.  This one won't going to work."  He rolled the blue robe into a tight ball and shoved it into a nearby bucket.  "Take off that robe you're wearing."

Aeryn stared at him.  "What?  No!"

"This is no time to be modest, Aeryn—besides, I've already seen you naked a dozen times."  Snape reached into his sleeve.  "Take off your robe and put this on," he said, handing her a tightly folded square of cloth.  "Do it quickly, we only have a little bit of time before someone gets suspicious."

Aeryn pulled open the cloth, which turned out to be one of Snape's customary black robes.  "Will you please explain to me what this has to do with getting me out of the testing?" she asked, pulling off her own robe and throwing it in his direction.

"This."  In the Potions master's hand appeared two small bottles, which he unstoppered and placed on one of the shelves.  "Pull out a strand of hair and put it in one of the bottles."  He slipped out of his own robe and threw it on the floor.

Aeryn had a fleeting image of the rat-faced Ministry wizard opening the door to the closet and seeing them standing inside wearing nothing but their underwear.  She stifled a giggle and threw Snape's extra robe over her head.  The material hung over her small frame like a tent and pooled around her on the floor.

Snape tweaked a greasy black hair from his head and dropped it into a bottle.  The muddy liquid inside suddenly hissed and frothed, turning the color of smoke.

"What is it?" Aeryn asked curiously, plucking a strand of hair from her own head and dropping it into the other bottle, causing the liquid inside to bubble and turn a clear ruby-red.

"Polyjuice Potion," Snape said, dropping Aeryn's robe over his head.  "It'll turn me into you just long enough for me to take the test in your place."

_Polyjuice Potion_?  "But…doesn't that take like a month to make?" she asked incredulously as he picked up the bottle with her hair in it.  

"So you _have _been paying attention in class."  He looked absolutely ridiculous. The skirt had slipped over his head easily, but the waist was too small for his shoulders to go through, so the arms and bodice of her robe remained bunched up around his neck.  "Yes, it does take a month to prepare, but I always keep a few samples in my storeroom for emergencies."

"Do you have any more?" she asked eagerly as he put the bottle to his lips.  If he did, maybe she could steal some from the storeroom, and then she, Ron, Harry, and Hermione wouldn't have to make it….

Snape glared at her, a gesture that was slightly diminished by the bunched-up robe around his shoulders.  "No, I don't, and may we have this thoroughly enjoyable conversation when time is bit less pressing?" he snarled.  "Drink your potion."

Aeryn screwed her eyes shut and drank the bottle down in two large gulps.  It tasted like overcooked cabbage.  Immediately, her insides started writhing as though she'd just swallowed live snakes—she groaned and doubled up—then a burning sensation spread rapidly from her stomach to the ends of her fingers and toes—she collapsed against the closet wall as her skin bubbled like hot wax—and she was beginning to _grow, _her hands elongating and her fingers lengthening—her shoulders stretched painfully, filling the black robe she wore—

And suddenly everything stopped, and Aeryn was lifting a trembling hand and shoving it through the curtain of oily black hair that had fallen across her face.  Her fingertips grazed across her long face, feeling the slender cheekbones, the hooked nose…

"So this is what it feels like to be you," spoke a highly amused American contralto.  Aeryn turned and saw _herself _standing before her, smoothing the black school robe over the curve of her hips.  Snape had turned into a mirror image of her, from the mahogany hair in a simple bob to her curvy silhouette.  He/She looked up at Aeryn and raised an eyebrow.  "Good heavens, I've never fully appreciated my height."

"Let's get this over with," Aeryn rasped in Snape's sneering baritone, crawling to feet that looked like small boats.  

"The potion lasts for an hour," Snape said with Aeryn's voice, pushing open the closet with his now-small hand.  "_As soon _as the ten o'clock block has finished testing, meet me back here, and we'll trade places again.  And make certain that those imbeciles in the Hall start immediately when you get back there, else you'll turn back into yourself before the next block comes."

Aeryn clamped her now-long fingers around Snape's upper arm as they hurried back to the Great Hall.  "Don't sway your hips so much," she muttered as they rounded the corner.  "You're walking like a prostitute."

"Speaking of which," Snape whispered in her voice, "that asinine Oliver Wood isn't around by chance, is he?  Pity, I certainly could show him a side of you he hasn't seen before…." 

Aeryn gripped his arm so tightly that he winced.  "Pull any funny stunts, and I'll smack you so hard you won't be able to see straight," she snarled.

"Not in my body you won't, _professor."  _The Ministry wizard was pacing the long row of students as they walked towards the double doors, muttering under his breath.  "If you lay one finger on me, I'll walk through those doors and botch your testing so badly, you won't have _time _to pack your bags before you're booted out of here!"

Aeryn resisted the urge to slap his smug face.  "If you do _anything _to ruin my testing," she growled into his ear, "I'll…I'll march in there and kiss Professor McGonagall!"

The image of her face turned icy.  "You wouldn't dare!"

"On the lips," Aeryn promised, shoving him into her empty chair.  "Now stay quiet and wait your turn."

Snape stumbled into the seat.  "You're disgusting," he spat balefully.  

Aeryn bent down until she was staring into his slate-blue eyes.  "With tongue," she purred, a slow smile flickering her lips at the horrified expression that spread across the face in front of her.

There was a gentle tap on her shoulder.  "Uh…Professor?"

Aeryn turned slowly, fixing the Ministry wizard with a gaze that could cut steel.  _"What?"_  

The rat-faced man, now a good five inches shorter than her, shrank back a step.  "I—I just—" he whimpered.  "We need to start—"

_"I _will start when I'm good and ready, peabrain!" Aeryn hissed, drawing herself up to her full height.  

There was a snicker behind her.  "Peabrain?" drawled a familiar American voice.

Aeryn whirled on her heel and pointed a finger at the disguised Snape.  "_One more peep _out of you, Miss Blake, and I'll take _another _twenty points from Gryffindor!"  Ignoring the smug smirk on her doppelganger's face, Aeryn curled her lip and stalked through the double doors of the Great Hall, her black robes swirling about her ankles.

_I just took twenty points from my House_….__

Seven pairs of eyes looked up as she burst through the doors.  The Great Hall had been cleared of the long House tables, and the staff table had been moved to the center of the room.  Dumbledore was seated in the center of the table, with the Heads on one side of him and the Ministry's task force on the other side.  

"Severus," Professor McGonagall exclaimed as Aeryn sat down in an empty chair.  "What was all that about?"

"Nothing," Aeryn growled.  She peered down the table.  The task force was assembled of three men and one woman, each wearing similar looks of disgust as they toyed with identical gray boxes sitting in front of them.  Aeryn tried not to appear too interested as the woman twisted a knob on the top of her box, turning the gray sides a sickly yellow color.  Although she was dying to know the significance of the object, she assumed that explanations had already been given, and to let on to her ignorance would give her away.

"We're ready," the woman said after a moment.  Dumbledore nodded and tapped his wand on the table.  "Ayers, Briton!" he called, and a blond fourth year walked into the Hall.

As the line of students began to slowly move through the Hall, Aeryn had to remember to keep her face impassive.  Professor Snape would _never _show interest in such a tedious chore, though Aeryn found it fascinating.  Each student was asked to perform a rudimentary trick of magic—levitating a feather, a simple transmogrification—then the Minisry would fiddle with their boxes, their faces set as the gray sides changed to red, or blue, or green, or yellow, and they would pronounce the student as clean, not a mutant, next student, please.

"Blaine, Michael!" called Dumbledore.

Sweat beaded on Aeryn's sallow brow as the seventh year breezed through his testing.  She—or, more exactly, Snape—was next.  She glanced nervously over at the headmaster as the Ministry wizards manipulated their boxes.  Would he be able to tell…?

The Ministry force shook their heads as the boxes changed color.  Michael Blaine was clear.

"Blake, Aeryn!"

A short, curvy figure paused in the doorway of the Great Hall with one hand on her hip, then _sashayed_ into the room, hips swaying back and forth as a mischievous glint darkened her slate-blue eyes.

The real Aeryn's jaw tightened as her double paraded in front of the table, smiling like she was in a beauty pageant.  "Good morning, Professors," she purred.

"Miss Blake, this is going to be very simple," Dumbledore said, as he had for all the students before her.  "I'd like you to levitate this feather in the air for us.  Please remember that this is merely a test to see if you can perform magic, and will not affect your grades in any of your classes."

"Certainly, Headmaster," her double said, smiling sweetly as she rummaged in her voluminous sleeve.  A moment passed; the smile on her face suddenly became rigid.  "Oh, dear," the fake Aeryn murmured.  "I seem to have misplaced my wand."

What? 

Professor McGonagall looked furious.  "Miss Blake, we went over this in the informative session yesterday," she snapped.

The Aeryn double raised her hands helplessly.  "I know, Professor McGonagall, and I put it in my robe this morning, but somehow it must have fallen out."  Her eyes looked straight at Aeryn and smiled benignly.  "Professor Snape, may I borrow yours?"

Fortunately, no one was looking at the Potions master, or they would have seen his jaw hanging open in a most un-Snapelike manner.  

"Please," the phony Aeryn added after a moment.  

Her hand shot to her waist, where—unfortunately—her fingers met empty air.  "He can't borrow mine," Aeryn said automatically.  _Where's his wand, he always keeps it in his belt…oh, no, I must have left it in the broom closet_….__

Professor Flitwick, sitting on the other side of her, turned and stared.  "_He?"_

_Oh, shit.  _"Miss Blake can't borrow mine, either," Aeryn deadpanned, forcing herself not to wince.  "Sorry, I thought—" she waved a hand at the Ministry wizards— "one of them…wanted to use my wand.  My mind was somewhere else.  Sorry."  She crossed her arms, remembering at the last minute not to bite her lip.

A spasm of fury contorted the fake Aeryn's face for a split second.  "Professor Snape," she said in a low, teasing voice, "_how _you could confuse me for a boy is beyond my understanding."  She dragged a hand heavily down the curve of her hip.  "I mean, honestly—"

"Miss Blake!" exclaimed the real Aeryn and Professor McGonagall in a shocked chorus.

"Excuse me, I forgot myself," her double said breezily, but her slate-blue eyes were shooting daggers.

Professor McGonagall was not amused.   "Miss Blake.  You cannot be tested without your wand.  If you truly do not have it, then—"

"Oh, wait," exclaimed the fake Aeryn.  She put a hand into her other sleeve and drew out a slender wand.  "Here it is.  I guess I just missed it the first time through."  She giggled.

I'm going to kill him.

With a flick of her wand, the feather rose into the air.  The real Aeryn sat very still as the task force played with their boxes.  A moment passed…two moments…three moments…her heart slammed furiously against her ribcage.  It wasn't going to work, they were going to be discovered, she was going to be expelled….

"She's clean."  The woman from the Ministry looked up from her box.  "Next student, please."

"Excellent," the phony Aeryn purred, a very Snapeish edge lining her voice.  With a surreptitious wink at the fake Potions master, she sauntered from the room, tapping her wand nonchalantly against her leg.

Pain shot through Aeryn's shoulders as she slumped back against her chair, and she realized that she had been clenching her muscles so tightly that her back was now cramping.  She shifted in her seat, wincing.

"I don't know what's gotten into that girl recently," Professor McGonagall muttered as Rowena Burns came into the Hall.  "First sneaking out of the House after hours, and now this…I'm going to have to have a talk with her."

_Uh-oh.  _"Don't be too hard on her, Minerva," Aeryn muttered back as Dumbledore handed Rowena a matchstick.  "There may be things affecting her that you don't know about."

Professor McGonagall glanced over at her sharply, but Aeryn had fixed her face into a mask of boredom and was leaning back in her chair, her fingers steepled under her hooked nose.

After the first rush of adrenaline, Aeryn found herself struggling to stay awake as the rest of the students streamed through the Hall.  Professor McGonagall was stifling a yawn, and Professor Flitwick kept nodding off, jerking back awake every once in a while when a nervous student would mess up the words of a spell.  Even Dumbledore was looking bored as the Ministry force tweaked their boxes yet again.

A strand of greasy black hair fell into her eyes, and Aeryn lifted a hand to shove it back—and realized, to her horror, that her fingers were slowly shrinking back their original size.  The hour was up, and the potion was beginning to wear off.  She frantically clattered to her feet, clutching her stomach as if it pained her.

"Severus?" Professor Sprout asked curiously.  "Are you—"

Aeryn hurled herself out of the chair, feeling the material of the robe start to swim about her shoulders.  She crashed through the double doors, to the shock of the remaining students waiting to be tested, and dashed around the corner.  She flung herself into the broom closet a second before her form collapsed and she was herself again, her own body, her own features, with Snape's too-large robe pooling on the floor around her.

Snape was already in the broom closet, pulling his robe back on. "_You _are a complete moron!" he snapped, jamming his wand into his belt. 

_"Me?" _Aeryn snarled, ripping the enormous robe off. "What the _hell _were you doing, forgetting where my wand was?  Thanks to you, I'm going to get _reamed_ by McGonagall!" 

"Your sleeves are _huge, _and how was I to know that you kept your wand in your other sleeve?"  Snape's eyes, now back to their normal coal-black, were blisteringly cold.  "And what about that he-she business?  Why didn't you just stand on the table and _announce _our disguises to the staff?"

"You were no better, with all your prancing and mincing!"  She slipped her own clothes on, thanking her stars to be back to her normal height.  "You made me look like a—a promiscuous idiot!"

 Snape's lip curled.  "'My mind was somewhere else, sorry?'" he sneered.  "Hell of a way to cover your blunder!  Disguise is the art of subtlety, and you were about as subtle as a brass band!"

Aeryn tossed her hair and glared at him.  "Well, you can just go back in there and explain your inconsistencies off as whatever you ate this morning, because you've just bolted out of the Great Hall before you puked all over the floor!"  She ran a hand down her robe, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.  "I suppose I could have had a more _subtle _exit, _if _a certain Potions professor hadn't wasted nearly five minutes in testing acting like a complete dunderhead!"

"If you don't like how I acted," he snapped, kicking open the door, "you can handle this on your own next time!"

Aeryn stomped out of the broom closet.  "If you keep your end of the bargain, and don't bring up mutants again, there won't _be _a next time."

"Fine," he snarled, glaring balefully at her.  "You're welcome for saving your hide, Miss Blake!"

"Thanks for everything, Professor!" she spat.  As Snape stalked back to the Great Hall with black robes swirling, Aeryn marched along the hallway towards Gryffindor Tower, seething with rage.

"Hey," Harry exclaimed as she entered the common room.  "How'd it go?"

"I passed," she said curtly, starting up the stairs to the dormitory.  

It wasn't until she reached her bedroom that the full understanding of that phrase hit her.

 _Yes…you passed_….__

She sat down on her bed, her knees suddenly weak, and realized that she was trembling with relief. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_This chapter was fun to write._

_"Parlus" – from the French word 'to speak'_

_"Aedes" – from a Latin word for 'house'_


	21. The Calm Before The Storm

Chapter 21: The Calm Before The Storm

__

Heavy snowflakes fell in clumps from the gray sky, lining the ground in marshmallow sheets of white.  The air was still with the uncommon silence of winter, as if the snow blanketing the world also muffled every sound until you were afraid to even breathe loudly, lest you shatter the still beauty before you.  Aeryn shivered and pulled her winter cloak tightly around her body.  Hogwarts castle looked like something out of a children's fairytale, with snow icing the turrets and a thousand candles lighting the windows.  Inside the castle, the students were snuggled up under the blankets or huddled in their respective common rooms around the roaring fireplaces, laughing with their friends or quietly finishing their homework for Monday.  Aeryn had decided to forego the comfort of fire and friends to take a walk and be alone with her thoughts.

Her feet crunched into the snow at the edge of the lake, the waters frozen over and dusted with white powder.  With the toe of her boot, she scraped away the snow, revealing the choked waterweeds entrapped in the ice.  She thought fleetingly of the giant squid, now slumbering beneath the heavy, frozen shroud of the lake.  _Do squid dream? _she wondered, looking up into the spidering branches of the empty trees.  _And if they do, what do they dream about?  Do they ever yearn, in the dead of winter, to see the sun, and do they ever wonder if they will ever see it again as they hide beneath the ice, unable to break the surface?_

A cardinal whistled from a nearby bough, his vibrant red shocking against the snow.  He cocked his head at her, flirting his wings, and leapt into the air with a twittering shriek.  Aeryn's eyes watched him as he darted away, bright as a drop of blood in the gray sky.

Blood….

Her fingers absently trailed along the deep groove on her left arm, one of her recent acquisitions from her midnight visits to Snape's chambers.  She had been sneaking towards the Slytherin dungeon when the malicious giggle of Peeves echoed in the corridor ahead of her.  Fortunately, she was still on the main floor, and had flung herself towards the suits of armor lining the wall.  But it had been a tight squeeze, and as she wriggled her way behind the armor, her arm dragged heavily across a spiked elbow guard.  Peeves had drifted by without seeing her, but a thin trail of blood had dotted her path to the Slytherin chambers.  When she had shown her wound to Snape, he had merely laughed coldly…and, well, the evening had progressed in its usual fashion.  He had eventually tapped his wand on her arm to stop the bleeding, but had done nothing to speed the healing process.

After the events of the testing and the Polyjuice Potion, Aeryn had dared to think that he had been warming to her, that in the deepest depths of his heart he actually had a smidgeon of concern for her, but that hope had died the day the Ministry packed up their little gray boxes and left Hogwarts.  The testing had only seemed to deepen Snape's resolve that Aeryn's continued stay at Hogwarts depended entirely on him, and he had not let her forget it for an instant.  The bruises coloring her body were more frequent and much deeper.  A constant illusion covered her discolored face, although her clothing hid the worst of the damage.  He had never _literally _raised a hand against her, but in the throes of his…passion…he was becoming increasingly violent.  Once, Aeryn had been slammed up against the wall with such force she had been unable to draw a full breath for days.

She supposed she could reason it away like a tired, battered wife, saying that 'he really didn't mean to hurt her,' but that lie was bitter to her tongue.  He meant it, just as much as he meant the macabre parody of a kiss he pressed to her lips every night as she left his chambers, a claim of total ownership, a gesture of cruelty and utter contempt that was more painful than a dagger's thrust.  All his passion was like that, equally filled with hate and pride.  And _she…_Aeryn squeezed her eyes tightly shut, eyes that burned in their dry sockets.  If she was to stay at Hogwarts, she was helpless to fight back, and that realization infuriated her. 

She pressed her fingers to her temples wearily.  It would probably be best for her if she _was _back in the common room, surrounded by the laughter and companionship of her friends, but on this dreary Sunday morning, the façade of smiling was too monumental of a task.  Harry was already suspicious, that she knew, for she had often caught him staring at her with a worried light in his bottle-green eyes.  And Hermione—although her dorm mate had not spoken to her again about her midnight excursions, Aeryn often felt a pair of eyes watching her as she stumbled back to her bed with disheveled robe and hair.  Even Ron had ceased his usual badgering when he noticed the only laughter that fell from her lips was forced and tinny, and did not quite reach the hollowed shadows beneath her eyes.

The crunching of footsteps cut through her thoughts.

"Yeh shouldn't be standin' so close to the edge," grumbled a gruff, familiar voice.  "Th' ice isn't quite hard enough yet teh hold yeh."

Aeryn turned to see the giant gamekeeper standing behind her, holding an enormous bag in one meaty hand.  "Hagrid," she said softly.  "How are you?"  

"Not bad."  The burly man brushed his free hand down his beard, sending snowflakes tumbling to the ground.  "Seems like I haven't seen yeh in ages."

Aeryn nodded guiltily.  "I know."  Because of the cold weather and her growing inability to socialize, Aeryn had not visited the gamekeeper's hut in over three weeks.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione visited him every Friday afternoon, but Aeryn had found reasons to bow out of the visits, whether it was a headache or a paper on which she had to get started.  She pointed to the bag he carried.  "What's that for?"

"Got a little somethin' fer the squid," he grunted.  "He don't get many visitors in th' winter, 'n I thought I'd give him a little snack."  With a powerful swing, Hagrid tossed the sack across the lake.  It sailed through the air until it fell to the ice.  There was a muffled _crack_ and a gentle _sploosh _as the bag splintered through the thin ice and sank to the bottom of the lake.

"Shouldn't you have opened the bag first?"  Aeryn asked.

Hagrid shrugged.  "Nah.  He can untie it himself—it'll give him somethin' teh do."  He turned to her, his beetle-black eyes dancing over her form.  "Yeh've lost weight," he said gruffly.

The ghost of a smile tugged her lips.  "Thanks."

"I don't mean it in a good way," he said sharply.  "Yeh look sick, like you've not been eatin'."  

Aeryn, alarmed at the metallic edge covering his voice, turned away from him.  

When the gamekeeper spoke again, his words were barely louder than the falling snow.  "What's wrong with yeh, Aeryn?"

"Nothing," Aeryn whispered, keeping her eyes turned to the frozen lake.  _No, Hagrid, not now, don't talk to me about this now, when I can barely hold myself together_….__

"Nothin' don't put hollows in yer cheeks or black circles under yer eyes."  She heard the crunch of snow as he took a step closer.  "Like teh try again?"

Aeryn closed her eyes.  _"_Really, Hagrid, it's…." She sighed, a sound that closely resembled a quiet sob.  "I'm just exhausted.  It's been a hard semester."  _Carefully, carefully_…."I'll be better after Christmas—I'm going home, it'll do me good, a change of scene—"

"Yeah, I know," the gamekeeper interrupted.  "Harry told me."

_Harry.  _Aeryn put a hand to her face.  Professor McGonagall had come around Gryffindor Tower last week, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas.  "_Malfoy's _staying here over the holiday," Hermione had said as she scribbled her name at the bottom of the parchment.  "It's a perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion to get a confession out of him,"

"But wouldn't you guys rather be with your families?" Aeryn had asked despairingly as Harry and Ron added their names.  "I mean, that's what Christmas is all about, right?  Spending time together with your family?"

"Mum and Dad are going to visit Bill this Christmas," Ron exclaimed, shaking his fiery head.  "Besides, I'd much rather stay here.  The Christmas feast is to _die _for."

"And you couldn't pay me enough to go back to the Dursleys," Harry added flatly.  He handed the parchment and the quill to Aeryn.  "You're staying here, right?  I mean, you don't have any family to go back to."

Aeryn had stared at the quill for a long moment.  She wanted to help her friends with the Polyjuice Potion, and the temptation of Christmas at Hogwarts was very strong—_but time away from Hogwarts is time away from Snape, _a tiny corner of her mind had whispered.  And she had to remember what life was like back with the Muggles, to see if she could cope with them again if she decided…as she had been thinking…to leave Hogwarts.  She had sadly shaken her head and pushed the parchment away.  "Sorry, guys," she had said quietly.  "Not this year."  

The looks on their faces had dampened any joy she felt at escaping for the winter holiday.

The gamekeeper's meaty hand rested hesitantly on her shoulder.  "He's worried sick 'bout yeh, Aeryn."

Aeryn shook her head wordlessly.

"Yer like a big sister teh him, didja know thet?"  There was true concern in Hagrid's voice, and to hear it was like having forty-grit sandpaper rubbed against her skin.  "He adores yeh.  He told me thet spendin' that week with yeh at yer place was one of th' best times he's ever had, and thet kid has had precious few things teh smile about in his life, Lord knows."  

Aeryn bit her lip.

"He'd bend over backwards teh help yeh, yeh know he would," continued the gamekeeper.  "An' so would Ron and Hermione—they're just kids, but they're loyal, an' I know that no matter what it is—"

"Hagrid."  His name tore from her throat, as raw and harsh as a bleeding wound.  "Stop.  Please."  She pulled away from him, not wanting him to feel her shuddering.

There was a long silence, broken only by the low whistle of a cardinal.  "What's wrong, Aeryn?" Hagrid asked, and his voice was troubled.

Aeryn bowed her head.  "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

Her eyes stung.  "Because you can't help me," she whispered.

Hagrid put his hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "Then talk teh someone who _kin _help yeh."  The warm weight of his touch was suffocating.  "Like Dumbledore, no matter what it is—"

"No!"  Aeryn tore herself from Hagrid's grip and whirled to face him.  "Not Dumbledore. Of all people, not him."

The gamekeeper stared at her, his beetle-black eyes wide and distressed.  "Aeryn, what—"

She sliced a hand through the air.  _"No."  _Her control was slipping; she could hear the quaver bleeding into her words.  "Please believe me when I say that I can handle this."

Hagrid held out a hand.  "Aeryn—"

"Please don't mention this conversation to Harry," Aeryn said harshly, and without another word turned and ran back to the castle before the gamekeeper could see the unshed tears welling up in her eyes.

*          *          *

Hermione shook her head as they sat in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, looking at the half-finished Polyjuice Potion.  "We still need the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin," she said, running an eye down the list of ingredients.  "And the only place we're going to get them is in Snape's private stores."

Ron and Harry gulped simultaneously.

"Are you suggesting," Aeryn said slowly, "that we _rob his office?"  _

"Consider it seizing an opportunity," Hermione said briskly.  "It'll be simple.  We can even do it tomorrow—all we need is a diversion, and then one of us can sneak into his office and take what we need."

Harry and Ron looked at her nervously.

"I think Aeryn and I'd better do the actual stealing," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone.  "You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and we've—save for a few points taken away for _being out after hours_—got a clean record."  She looked pointedly at Aeryn, then turned back to the boys.  "So all you two need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so."

"No," Aeryn exclaimed flatly as Harry and Ron smiled at each other feebly.

Hermione glared at her.  "Why not?"

"Because it would be safer to poke a sleeping dragon in the eye, that's why!" Aeryn snapped.  Considering the way Snape had been acting recently, if he caught them robbing his storeroom, they'd all wind up expelled or worse.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Don't overreact, Aeryn.  Honestly, you are such a worry-wart, _nothing _is going to happen."

Aeryn bristled and pinched her lips shut before she could lash out at the girl.  

"I think I'd rather face Slytherin's legendary monster," Harry whispered weakly to her as they exited the bathroom, and Aeryn couldn't disagree with him.

*          *          *

Snape paused and looked into Harry's cauldron.  "Did you use water to thicken your Swelling Solution, Potter?  Surprise me someday, and _attempt _to do something right for once."  He glared into Aeryn's neighboring cauldron without a word, and then turned and walked off to bully Neville Longbottom.

Hermione caught Harry's eye and nodded.  Harry ducked swiftly down behind his cauldron, pulling one of Fred Weasley's Filibuster fireworks out of his pocket.  He prodded it quickly with his wand, and the firework began to fizz and sputter.  Aeryn gritted her teeth as Harry straightened, took aim, and lobbed the spitting projectile across the room into Goyle's cauldron.

Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class.  People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them.  Malfoy got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of dinner plates—

"C'mon, Aeryn," Hermione hissed, grabbing her hand.  The two girls hurriedly slipped into Snape's office amidst the cries of their fellow students.

Hermione immediately made a beeline for Snape's long row of cupboards.  "I'll get the boomslang skin," she said, throwing open a door.  "Try the cupboard to my left for the bicorn horn—it looks like this is all in alphabetical order, and this cupboard begins with BL."

Aeryn ran her eyes down the meticulously stenciled labels until she found what she was looking for.  "Got it," she whispered, grabbing the tiny jar holding two pearly-white spikes and holding it out to Hermione.  "You take it, I don't have any pockets in this robe."

"SILENCE!" Snape roared in the classroom.  "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft!  The rest of you, take your seats!"

"That's our signal," muttered Hermione, and she and Aeryn slid back into the dungeon.

Aeryn glanced over at the boys as the class, with various oversized body parts, lined up for a swig of antidote.  Harry was positively pale, and Ron's face was twisted in fright.  Aeryn followed their gaze to the front of the room.  Professor Snape was standing at the front of his desk with his arms folded, his gaze blistering straight into the two boys.  But his face was uncommonly calm, as if he was merely a disinterested observer taking note of the goings-on.

Once the students had deflated to their usual size and taken their seats, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework.  There was a sudden hush as the Potions master slowly turned the charred object in his hands.

"Well," he said finally, in a voice totally devoid of emotion.  "This is a very interesting turn of events."

The class was silent.

"Longbottom, stand up."

Neville Longbottom's face drained of color.  Aeryn and everyone else knew that he was more frightened of Professor Snape than anything else in the world.  But to refuse a direct request from the Potions master was tantamount to sticking your head down the maw of a dragon, so he hesitantly rose to his feet.  Snape slowly strode over to him, his black robes swirling as he held the firework very carefully in one hand.

"You did this, didn't you," he said quietly.

Neville gulped loudly.  "N-no—no, s-sir," he replied, trembling.

Snape held the charred firework beneath his nose.  "I think you're lying to me, Longbottom."

"No, P-Professor, you l-looking at my potion when—"

The professor towered over the small second year, his face still dangerously bland.  "I imagine your grandmother will be less than pleased when she receives note of this afternoon's little event."

Neville was quaking so hard that he looked as if he would shake to pieces at any moment.  "Sir, n-no, I d-didn't do it—"  

"Better pack up your things at once, little Gryffindor," Snape said calmly.  Neville was close to tears now, his pale face flushed and his breath coming in short little gasps.  "Because I'm going to the headmaster's office right after class and—"

"Stop it!"  Harry yelled, leaping to his feet.  "Leave Neville alone!"

Silence descended upon the room like a black curtain.  Snape turned away from Neville and fixed Harry with a long, languid stare.  "What was that, Potter?"

"I did it," Harry said immediately.  "It was my fault.  Now leave Neville alone."

Hermione flinched, Ron sucked in a sharp breath, and Aeryn's jaw clenched.  It was never safe to challenge the Potions master, this she knew from experience, and alarm bells began to peal warningly in her brain for her brave friend.

Snape's coal-black eyes did not even flicker.  "Ah, yes.  I should have known.  Mr. Potter."  Ignoring the cowering Neville, Snape advanced towards Harry.  "Always the troublemaker.  You're so much like your father, did you know that?  You've got that same incorrigibleGryffindor spirit, that same penchant for breaking rules…James always did think he was a cut above everyone else…."

"Don't talk about my dad that way," Harry said sharply, his thin hands curling into fists.

The Potions Master's face remained impassive.  "I don't think you're in the best position to judge your father, Potter," he said.  "It might do you some good to hear a bit of the truth_ for once, rather than that pretentious trash that everyone keeps filling your mind with—"_

"SHUT UP!"  Harry yelled.

The Potions master's lips firmed in a line of displeasure.  No one dared to move or breathe, but the alarms ringing in Aeryn's head had turned into full-fledged sirens.

Snape slowly shook his head from side to side.  "Extremely unwise, Potter," he said in a very, very quiet voice.  

Oh no….

"Crabbe, Goyle."  Malfoy's two goons lumbered out of their seats.  "Secure Potter so he can't run away."

Harry did not move as Crabbe and Goyle grabbed his arms and held him fast.  The two Slytherins were enormous for their age, and Harry looked very small and delicate between them.

Snape lifted a crystal phial from his desk and sauntered over to Harry's cauldron.  "Do you know what happens when one imbibes Swelling Solution, Potter?"  He dipped the phial into the cauldron.  

Harry remained silent.

"Come now, Potter, it's a little late to be playing dumb."  Snape lifted the phial, filled to the brim with Harry's watery concoction.  "When the potion is prepared correctly, a Swelling Solution produces a result similar to an Engorgement Charm."  He held the phial up in the air, being careful not to drip the solution over himself.  "However, your potion seems to be light on several essential ingredients—puffer-fish eyes and feverfew spring to mind.  I must admit, I am unsure of the reaction this potion will cause.  Perhaps your inner organs will swell, but the rest of your body will remain the same size."  The merest grin ghosted his lips.  "Well, we shall soon find out, won't we?"

As Snape stepped towards him, Harry began to kick, and Crabbe and Goyle's fingers tightened around his arms.  Aeryn's fingers curled against her seat, her knuckles paling.

"On the desk," the Potions master murmured.

Crabbe and Goyle threw the struggling Harry over Snape's desk, pressing him firmly against the tabletop.  Snape bent over the boy and pried his mouth open with his long fingers.  "Drink it all, Potter," he said calmly, positioning the vial over Harry's lips.

"NO!!!" 

Aeryn launched herself from her chair and tackled the Potions master to the floor, telekinetically _tearing the phial from his fingers and smashing it harmlessly against the stone wall.  She pinned his arms to the ground, her face bare inches away from his.  "You __promised!" she screamed.__  "Whatever problems you have with my friends, you take it out on __me, not them!"_

A snarl erupted from between Snape's lips and he heaved her off him.  He scrambled to his feet, grabbing for the wand at his belt, but Aeryn _pulled it away from him with a hiss.  Snape raised his hand, but Aeryn was faster, and her fist shot out and slammed into his solar plexus._

Snape doubled over, clutching his chest.  Aeryn dropped into a defensive crouch as her eyes skittered nervously about the classroom.  Harry had gotten free of Crabbe and Goyle and was standing in a corner with Ron and Hermione.  Slytherins and Gryffindors alike stared in horror at their folded Potions master.  Snape growled, his coal-black eyes now flaming with rage, and lunged towards Aeryn.

_"Haiii!" she shrieked, windmilling her leg and kicking the professor across the face.  There was a loud __riiip as her skirt tore, severely hindering the force of her blow, but it was enough to knock Snape against the wall.  Aeryn leapt back and danced around the desk to put some distance between her and the Potions master.  _

"_Sangusfero!" came a sudden cry behind her._

Something smacked between her shoulder blades, and singeing warmth erupted through her body.  For a moment, Aeryn tried to stand, to hold her ground—but the instant she moved, burning pain shot through her muscles, and she crumpled to the floor in agony.  She looked up and saw Draco Malfoy standing above, pointing his wand at her.

_The little bastard… used a Fireveins Curse…oh, God…_She groaned, curling into a small ball.

There was a rustle as Snape got unsteadily to his feet.  The entire left side of his face was already starting to darken where she had struck him.  "_Accio_," he whispered through a blooded mouth, and his wand flew into his hand.  He leveled the slender stick of wood at Aeryn. "_Mensus geluso_," he muttered in a cold voice.  It was as if a large hand had suddenly reached into Aeryn's head and squeezed, cutting off the circulation to half her brain…_the mutant half_, she realized instantly when she probed for her powers.  

Snape walked over to her.  He bent and grabbed the bodice of her robe, jerking her to a standing position.  With cool, emotionless eyes that never left hers, he backhanded her cruelly across the face once, twice, three, four, five times, each blow rocking her head from side to side.

The bell rang shrilly.

"Go," Snape whispered in a horrible voice, and the students flew as one for the door.  Aeryn remained locked in his grasp, his chilling glare blistering into her as her head reeled from his blows.  If she remained still, the pain was dormant, but the second she lifted a finger, it felt like liquid bleach had been poured into her veins.

A sudden movement caught the corner of her eye.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood beside her, clenching their wands in their fists.

"Are you going to let her go?" asked Harry through clenched teeth.

Snape's eyes, still fixed on Aeryn, flashed dangerously.  "Tell your friends to leave," he hissed to her.  "Unless, of course, you would prefer them to be carried from here on stretchers."

"Guys, do what he says," Aeryn croaked, doing her best not to move her jaw.  "Now."

The three of them held their ground.  Harry clenched his wand even tighter.  "Let her go, Snape."

For a moment, all was still.  Then, like a lightning bolt, the Potions Master let go of Aeryn and whirled to face Harry, his wand raised and his face twisted in rage—Harry flinched back—Hermione and Ron's wands jerked up—Snape reared, his thin lips moving to cast a spell—and Aeryn flung herself onto him, a scream escaping her lips as jags of pain ripped through her body.

"_Get out of here!_"she shrieked to her horrified friends, twisting Snape's wand hand behind his back until his fingers spasmed open in agony.  _"Go, now!"  _

"I'm not leaving—" Harry began bravely, but this time Ron and Hermione listened to Aeryn.  They each grabbed one of Harry's arms and dragged him from the room, their faces white.  

Aeryn kicked Snape's wand beneath his desk an instant before the Potions master pulled from her grasp and, with a roar of fury, elbowed her sharply in the stomach.  Aeryn doubled up in pain, and Snape was suddenly upon her, his fists smashing into her face and body with superhuman force.  Aeryn tried to shield herself, to attack back with a well-placed kick or punch, but it was like trying to stop a tornado.  His fist connected solidly with her jaw, and the force threw her backwards against one of the desks.  The tabletop splintered beneath her and she crashed to the floor, the breath knocking from her lungs.

Snape stood over her, his lips pulled away from his teeth in a feral snarl.  One of Aeryn's flailing hands had clawed a gash across his cheekbone, and blood was pouring down his cheek in a scarlet curtain.  "How dare you," he whispered, his coal-black eyes filled with fire.  The calm had broken and the full storm of his wrath was written across his face.  "How dare you attack me, you little bitch?"

She felt like she had been crumpled up like a sheet of paper and then smoothed back out, but lying on the ground with the splinters of the desk digging into her back and blood gushing from her mouth and nose, Aeryn began to shake in silent, helpless laughter.  "You…motherfucker," she gasped.  It hurt to breathe.  "Did you _honestly_ think…I would sit quietly by and watch you…hurt my friends?"

Snape wiped a rivulet of blood from his jawline.  "You went too far this time, Blake," he hissed.

"Then go…get Dumbledore…expel me like you've been…threatening to do." The fingers of her right hand slowly curled around a broken-off table leg.  "I've been an idiot to let this go on…for as long as it has…but I sure as hell…won't be a bigger idiot…by letting it continue."  Her eyes watered as she imperceptibly tensed the muscles in her legs.  "This…ends now."

Snape laughed, a harsh, barking sound.  "_End__?" he asked scornfully.  "Oh no, my dear.  You've attacked a teacher—and, considering that and _what you are_, it won't be too terribly difficult to link you to the attacks on the cat and Creevey."  His face was demonic.  "Once I tell Ministry that you're a mutant, they'll bring the dementors in for you.  Ever heard of Azkaban?  Or the Dementor's Kiss?"  His coal-black eyes glittered.  "They'll be onto you like flies onto honey."_

"Bring it on," she spat, tasting iron as her mouth filled with blood.  Her muscles were screaming as pain coursed through her every movement, but she forced herself to stay alert.  "But you're going down with me…you son of a bitch."  Nothing she said would make him listen, she knew that, but she had to keep him talking.  "Do you think…after all you've done to me…that you're going to get away with it?"  

The Potions master shrugged.  "Probably not.  To tell you the truth, I would be shocked if I did."  His lips curled in amusement.  "But that problem can be easily remedied."  His arm snapped up and his wand flew into his hand. 

"You can't tell them if you're dead," he said evenly, with stoic, lucid eyes.

_The overly lucid eyes of a madman, _Aeryn thought distantly.

His sallow face was flushed as he leveled the wand at her.  "Adieu, adieu, Miss Blake—parting can be such sweet sorrow."

Aeryn's muscles tensed.

"Avada Ked—" 

She launched herself from the floor and swung the table leg with all her might.  The heavy piece of wood connected solidly with the Potions master's head, cutting off his curse as cleanly as if she had severed his tongue with a knife—the Fireveins Curse roared in her blood, causing her to stumble—she gritted her teeth, fighting the pain—Snape's wand raised again, his face twisted into a mask of rage—Aeryn drove the table leg into his face again, and again, and again—he fell to the floor with a groan, his wand skittering across the floor—he frantically scrabbled to retrieve it—and Aeryn coldly lifted the piece of wood above her head and sent it smashing into the back of his skull.

There was a loud _crunch.  _Snape crumpled on the ground like a limp rag and did not move.

The room was deafeningly silent.

The table leg clattered from her hands, and Aeryn stumbled backwards.  The Fireveins Curse throbbed through her shattered body with every movement, and a moan escaped her lips as she fell back against the wall, fighting the nausea swimming through her.  With tears streaming down her cheeks, she probed for her mutant powers, but there was only blankness.

I've just killed a teacher….

A trickle of blood slowly oozed from beneath Snape's greasy black hair, pooling on the stone floor.  

She had to get to the hospital wing.  When her mutant powers returned—_if _her mutant powers returned—she could move herself and Snape from the dungeons to the infirmary—or she could contact Dumbledore, or Professor McGonagall, or _someone _telepathically, tell them what happened, get some help….

Oh, God, I've just killed a teacher….

A hiss of escaped breath cut through her thoughts.  Aeryn's watering eyes turned to the folded form on the ground.  The Potions master's hand twitched slowly, then spidered out across the stone floor and began to grope around him.

Panic flooded through her.  As Snape's fingertips brushed up against his wand, Aeryn threw herself towards the dungeon door, clumsily pulling it open and staggering into the hallway.  She forced herself up the staircase, agony riddling her every step, and burst onto the main floor.  She was panting, her chest heaving fiercely, and she blindly lurched through the twists and turns of the passageways, her tortured imagination hearing the footfalls of the Potions master behind her.

Once he caught her, he would kill her—she had to get out—find someplace safe—

She limped through the long stone entranceway and pushed open the heavy oak door.  A burst of cold wind and snow smashed into her face.  Aeryn hesitated for only a second, and then staggered out onto the castle lawn, scrunching her face up against the storm as she hurried into the passageway to the underground harbor.  If she could get a boat—she could row across the lake, at least get her out of Hogwarts, she would figure it out from there—

The wind tugged fiercely at her robe as she stumbled down the rocky shore.  The pain wracking her body was almost unendurable now.  She was certain more than one of her ribs was broken, and several teeth in her bloody mouth were loose.  As she raised a trembling hand to wipe her bleeding nose, a particularly nasty twinge echoed in her muscles and she tumbled to the rocks, whimpering.  

There were no boats at the harbor, and Aeryn almost wept with despair.  But, as the wind bit into her skin, she remembered that it was _winter, _and a glimmer of hope sprung into her agonized brain.  Aeryn crawled to the water, putting her hands against the half-formed ice.  It was thicker than it looked, and might hold her weight.  With a backward glance over her shoulder, Aeryn dropped to all fours and started across the ice.

The snow whirled about her, buffeting her skin like a swarm of bees.  The blood soaking her robe cooled instantly and clung to her body.  Aeryn's knees and hands became numb as she slushed across the lake—her head reeled, and her vision was a blurred field of white—pain echoed her every move, and the breath sobbed from her throat as she pulled herself forward—

There was a soft splintering sound like a cloth-wrapped glass being tapped by a hammer.  The ice beneath her hand suddenly gave away, and Aeryn plunged into the lake with a terrified scream.

The frigid water hit her body like a horrible slap, and she gasped, flailing her limbs to stay afloat.  But the Fireveins Curse lightninged through her body, and her movements slowed as her robe filled with water, pulling her down.  Her head slipped under the water, and she was spinning in the sub-zero waters, her heart pounding madly in her ears, and it was so hard to move…so hard…black spots began to dance before her eyes…she could feel the oxygen burning from her lungs as she sank lower and lower….

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_"Sangusfero" – from the French words meaning 'blood' and 'fire'_

_            "Mensus geluso" – from the Latin meaning 'mind' and 'freeze'_


	22. Recovery

**Chapter 22:  Recovery**

_Cold…can't breathe…Aeryn flailed her arms and legs, trying to crawl back to the surface, but she was fighting a losing battle.  __My lungs…muscles…hurts to move…. The light above her grew dim as she sank lower and lower in the water.  The last molecule of oxygen burned from her lungs, and she gurgled, feeling consciousness slip from her body, her movements becoming more sluggish, her vision blacking out…._

_I'm going to die…._

Something large and slimy slithered around her waist.  Aeryn tried to clamp her hands around it, to pry it off of her, but a stream of bubbles escaped her lips as her head lolled backwards.  Her hands slackened and fell away, and Aeryn very quietly passed out.

*          *          *

Warmth.  Light flickering behind her closed eyelids.  Lying on something soft, pillowy, a sheet against her skin.  Shallow breathing, a raspy noise that sounded as if it were snagging on hooks.  Broken body, throbbing with pain, like she had been haphazardly glued together.  Twitching a finger, attempting movement, but a surge of white-hot agony shot through her muscles, and she groaned softly.

"Poppy!  She's coming to!"  A voice, relieved, someone she knew….

Aeryn cracked open a swollen eyelid. A fuzzy haze of light floated above her, and she blinked hard.  A haggard face came slowly into view, the face of a woman whose black hair was wild and whose bloodshot eyes revealed she had been awake for hours.  A thankful smile broke across her face as Aeryn lifted her eyes to her.

"Professor…Mc…" The words caught in her throat and Aeryn coughed, tearing the breath from her bruised body.

Madam Pomfrey's face came immediately into view.  _"Calmus," she murmured, and Aeryn's coughs subsided.  The school nurse put a hand to Aeryn's forehead.  "Her fever's still high," she said to Professor McGonagall.  Madam Pomfrey ducked out of view, then reappeared holding a small bowl, which she held to Aeryn's lips.  "If you can, dear, take a drink of this."_

Aeryn parted her lips and let the cool liquid slip into her mouth.  It hurt to swallow.

"Tell Hagrid that she's awake," Professor McGonagall said to someone Aeryn couldn't see.

"No visitors," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, running her wand over Aeryn's body.  "She's got to rest."

"The poor man has been pacing outside the infirmary for hours, Poppy," Professor McGonagall said.  "At least let him in for a moment, just to see her."

"No."  Madam Pomfrey shook her head firmly and gently placed the tip of her wand against Aeryn's chest.  "She's extremely weak, Minerva.  Any excitement could be detrimental to her recovery."

Aeryn rolled her eyes to the Transfigurations professor.  "What…."

Professor McGonagall put a comforting hand on Aeryn's arm.  "Don't worry, Miss Blake, you're going to be fine," she said soothingly.

A very large worry-line had appeared on Madam Pomfrey's forehead.  "I need that medicine," she muttered, half to herself, as she ducked out of Aeryn's line of vision.  "What is taking him so long?"

"Professor…" Aeryn croaked.  "Where…what…."

"Shh," Professor McGonagall hushed.  "You're in the infirmary, Miss Blake, and you've had a very bad accident.  We've—"

A wicked twinge rattled through Aeryn's body and she spasmed in pain, arching her back and giving a soft hiss.

Madame Pomfrey immediately reappeared.  She pressed her fingertips swiftly against Aeryn's temples and murmured a word.  A soothing numbness swept through Aeryn's body, and she thankfully slumped back against the bed with a shudder.  Madame Pomfrey quickly picked up her wand and waved it around.  A gray cloud shot out from the tip.  "I need that medicine _now," Madam Pomfrey said urgently.  _

Aeryn groaned, very quietly.  Her head felt light, almost as if it wasn't attached, and black spots were swimming before her eyes.

Professor McGonagall got to her feet.  "Poppy, what can I—"

A clatter at the infirmary door cut through her words.  "I'm here, let me through," muttered a low voice.

"Thank the Maker," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, running to join the speaker.  "She's regained consciousness—her injuries are so extensive—" Her voice dropped, and Aeryn just barely caught her next words— "I don't know how much longer she can hold on—"

"The potion is cool enough for her to drink immediately," said the unknown speaker as they walked back towards Aeryn's bed.  A tall figure came into view, the light playing across his greasy black hair and hooked nose—

_"No!" Aeryn shrieked in terror, crawling back against the pillows._

Professor McGonagall flew to her side.  "Miss Blake, what—"

_"Get him away from me!" she cried.  Pain lanced through her body as she lashed against the sheets, and the blood thundered in her ears.  Panicked, she reached out for her mutant powers, but found only blankness.  __"Get him out of here, he's going to kill me—"_

The Potions master backed up a step, his sallow face shocked.   Aeryn whimpered and grabbed Professor McGonagall's hand so tightly the teacher winced.  He was _standing—the mental image of the table leg smashing into his face flashed across her mind's eye—now, the light glanced off the shallow grooves her fingernails had made in his cheek, and his face was covered in a discolored bruise where she had kicked him, but he looked only as if he had been in a street brawl, none the worse for the wear—__and he was standing—_

"Miss Blake," Professor McGonagall said through clenched teeth, trying to pry her fingers from Aeryn's grasp.  "Please, calm—"

_"Someone, please, help me!" Aeryn sobbed._

Madam Pomfrey's wand began twisting violently in her fingers.  "Minerva, calm her down!" she cried, her hand snaking out towards her medicine table.

Snape quickly held up a hand. "Miss Blake, I'm not going to hurt you," he said, but at his movement, Aeryn curled into a ball, flinging her arms protectively over her head.

"Back away, Severus," Madam Pomfrey snapped, grabbing Aeryn's arm.  Aeryn thrashed against her grip, to get away, to save herself, but there was a swift prick on the inside of her elbow, and her eyelids fluttered suddenly.  Her muscles relaxed against the bed, and she blacked out, but not before she saw the Potions Master's coal-black eyes…filled, not with their usual malice…it was almost like…_grief…._

When she woke, it was night.  The infirmary was filled with clear moonlight, turning the sheets of her bed into silver.  He mouth was extremely dry.  Aeryn twitched her hand, reaching out towards the table for the water pitcher.  She nearly jumped as a dark shape sitting beside her bed stirred.

"Don't move, I'll get it fer yeh," exclaimed a voice from the shadows.

"Hagrid," Aeryn gasped feebly as the figure stretched out an arm and poured a glass of water.

Hagrid handed her the goblet, wrapping his huge hand around hers and helping her guide the brim to her lips.  He put his other hand to her forehead.  "Yeh still feel hot."  Aeryn made a noise in the back of her throat, gulping the cool water thankfully.  When she had finished, the giant man put the goblet back on the stand and made a move as if to get up.

Aeryn grabbed his hand.  "No," she protested.

"Madam Pomfrey said teh get her when yeh woke up," Hagrid said quietly.

"No," Aeryn repeated.  The instant the school nurse came back into the room, she would stick another needle in Aeryn's arm and send her back to sleep.  As much as her body ached and she longed for drugged oblivion, there was a catch in her friend's voice that made her pause.  "Hagrid…tell me what happened."

The gamekeeper shook his head.  "I don't think now—"

"You found me, didn't you," she whispered.

The room became utterly silent.  Hagrid's chair was half-turned to the window, and a beam of moonlight slanted across his haunted features.  "I…"  He swallowed hard.  "I don't rightly know what happened, Aeryn," he murmured so quietly that she had to strain to hear him.  "Allus I remember's that I was sittin' at home, an' all of a sudden Fang started barkin' somethin' awful, scratchin' at the door an' howlin' like I've never heard, so I…I opened the door an' he bolted out into th' storm, but then he doubled back 'n grabbed my clothes in his teeth, tryin' t' pull me outside."  

The gamekeeper looked down at his folded hands.  "'Course I followed him," he said slowly, "an' he shot like a rocket straight for the shore o' the lake."  The catch in his voice had become more pronounced.  "I saw…" He coughed, awkwardly.  "It was hard teh see through the storm, but…I _thought I could see somethin' not too far out, like a dark splotch or somethin'…Fang went crazy, yelpin' and runnin' along the shore, an'…" Hagrid lifted a hand and nervously stroked his beard, still refusing to look at her.  "Like I said, it was hard teh see through the blowin' snow, so I grabbed his collar an' started back for home…."  _

Through the slanting moonlight, Aeryn saw the corners of the gamekeeper's eyes tighten, and when he continued, his voice was choked.  "Then, there was this horrible _crackin' noise, an' I turned back an' saw th' ice in the shallows break…an' then this dark shape rose up from th' water…an'…"_

His voice cracked, and he put a trembling hand to his face.  Aeryn was silent as the giant man drew a deep, shuddering breath.  "It was th' giant squid," he said in a low tone, and Aeryn could hear him fighting for control.  "An' he had yeh in one o' his tentacles, holdin' yeh free o' th' ice…" He laughed brokenly.  "Cripes, Aeryn, I thought fer sure yeh were dead, yer face was all blue an' you weren't movin'…

"I…I stood there fer a minute, 'cause I couldn't believe what I'd seen…an' then, I, I jest grabbed yeh and started runnin', an' I got yeh teh th' infirmary as quick as I could…but…" His voice trailed off and he looked away, blinking furiously.

Every movement of her muscles was agony, but Aeryn slowly reached out and put her hand on her friend's knee.  He did not look back at her, but his huge hand quickly covered hers and held it tightly.  For a long moment they sat like that, their features silver in the moonlight.

With a heaving sigh, Hagrid finally stood up.  "I gotta get Madam Pomfrey," he murmured, turning to look at her.

Aeryn gripped his hand as hard as she could.  "Could you…" She could hear the quaver in her words.  "Do you mind…would you come back and sit with me?"  A small smile fluttered her lips.  "Until I go back to sleep?"

With his back to the window, Hagrid's face was shrouded in shadow, but Aeryn could hear the smile in his voice.  "As yeh wish," he promised quietly.  His robes rustled as he bent down and pressed a swift, gentle kiss on her forehead.  

Had he turned and walked away from the bed a moment later, he would have seen Aeryn shakily lift a hand to wipe her eyes.

*          *          *

The smell of perfume awoke Aeryn the next morning.  With a jaw-cracking yawn, she stretched and opened her eyes.  Madam Pomfrey was placing a dazzling floral arrangement on the bedside table.  Slightly startled, Aeryn lifted herself on one elbow to get a better look.  

Madam Pomfrey looked up and smiled.  "So you've finally decided to join us in the land of the living," she said, fixing the curved stem of an aster. "For a little while there, I was afraid we had another Sleeping Beauty on our hands."

Aeryn nodded in the direction of the flowers.  "What's this for?" she asked groggily, her voice as rusty as an unoiled gate.

Madam Pomfrey handed her a large white card with a picture of a dragon with an ice pack and a thermometer on the front.  Aeryn opened it and read:

_Hope your sickness doesn't drag-on!_

_GET WELL SOON!_

The card was filled with the signatures of the residents of Gryffindor Tower—including, Aeryn noticed, a scrawling _Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.  She smiled._

"And how are you feeling this morning?" the school nurse asked briskly, taking Aeryn's pulse.

"Fine," Aeryn replied.  She still felt shaky, like she had just gotten over a bout of the flu, but the Fireveins Curse had disappeared from her muscles.  She wiggled her jaw from side to side experimentally to see if her bones had healed.  Her body was sore, but everything felt intact.  

Madam Pomfrey put a hand to Aeryn's forehead.  "You've still got a bit of fever, but it's gone down considerably."  She held out a small bottle filled with a thick, amber liquid.  "Drink this.  It should help with your fever and give you some of your strength back."

Aeryn gladly took the small bottle and drained the contents.

"Now, I know you may be feeling better, but you're not to have any excitement yet," Madam Pomfrey warned.  "I'll get you something to eat, but you're to go straight to—"

A knock at the door interrupted her in mid-sentence, and three familiar faces peered into the hospital wing.  Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably.  "Um—we heard that Aeryn had woken up," she said hesitantly, "and we were wondering—er—if, maybe, we could—um—see her?"

"I really don't think—" Madam Pomfrey began.

"Guys!" Aeryn exclaimed.  She stretched out a hand, ignoring the disapproving look the school nurse gave her.  "Come on in."  

Her friends, after an uncertain glance at Madam Pomfrey, shuffled into the room.  "Thanks for dropping by," Aeryn said cheerfully.  "How're things?"

Ron mumbled something incoherently, and Hermione twirled a strand of bushy brown hair around her index finger.

Aeryn frowned slightly.  Her friends didn't usually act so closed-mouthed, but perhaps they didn't want to say anything hush-hush in front of Madam Pomfrey.  Aeryn glanced pleadingly up at the school nurse.  "Madam," she asked sweetly, "would you mind _terribly much if I had a little time alone with them?"_

Madam Pomfrey looked at Aeryn, then at the anxious faces of the second years, and then threw her hands in the air despairingly.  "Five minutes, Miss Blake, but then you _have to get some more rest."  She muttered something under her breath about students and pension pay, then whirled on her heel._

Aeryn rolled her eyes as the school nurse bustled from sight.  "Rest," she muttered confidingly to her friends.  "I don't think I've been awake more than ten minutes straight ever since I got here."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione laughed politely, then fell silent.  

Aeryn's eyes narrowed at their curious reservation. "Um…how long have I been in here, anyway?"

Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  "Er…well, it's Tuesday now."

"Oh."  Aeryn nodded musingly.  She'd been in the hospital wing for nearly five days—although wizards brewed potions that could regrow bones in one night, curing the combined effects of pneumonia, near-drowning, the Fireveins Curse, and a heavy beating still wasn't instantaneous.

There was an awkward pause.

"Guys, what's the matter?" Aeryn asked finally, getting fed up with their silent charade.

Harry looked straight at her, his thin face serious.  "Are you really feeling okay, Aeryn?" 

"Is that what's bothering you?"  She leaned back against her pillows and heaved a sigh, a determined look spreading across her features.  "To tell you the truth, as soon as I can get out of this bed, I'm going straightaway to Dumbledore and nailing Snape to the wall."  She ruefully put a hand to her face.  "He won't ever teach again once I'm through with him."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other nervously.  

A frission immediately ran up Aeryn's spine.  "What, guys?" she asked slowly.

Her friends again exchanged looks, but this time decidedly guilty ones.  "Aeryn…" Harry began hesitantly.  "You can't just accuse Snape of doing this to you."

Aeryn stared at him in open astonishment.  "You _saw what he did!"  She pointed an accusing finger at Harry.  "He…he tried__ to __kill you, Harry, and then when I defended you, he turned on me and did __this!"  She gestured angrily to her bruised face._

"I _know!" Harry exclaimed.  "We all know, we saw what he did…but, Aeryn, he's the __Head of a House."  He spread his hands out in front of him helplessly.__  "If we accuse him, that's like opening a huge Pandora's box."_

"Is that justice?" she asked bitterly.  "I don't care if he's the Head of a House, or…or even if he was the Minister of Magic!  I'm going to accuse him, I don't care what people may think, it isn't fair—"

"Aeryn," Hermione interrupted her suddenly.  The brown-haired witch put a hand on Aeryn's arm.  "We can't prove it."

"What do you mean?" Aeryn snapped.  "You saw—"

Hermione shook her head.  "Snape took Veritaserum," she said quietly.

Aeryn glared at her.  "What the hell's that?"

"It's a Truth Serum, one of the most powerful you can make," the young girl explained.  "Whoever takes it can only speak the truth while under its influence."

Aeryn couldn't see where this was going.  "So?  He took it and confessed to beating me up, he had to have…"

"No."  Ron's voice was low and very serious.  "He didn't."

Aeryn stared at her friends, her mouth agape.

Harry twisted a bit of his school robe between his fingers.  "We went to Dumbledore after class on Thursday, to get some help," he said, not looking at her.  "When we got back, neither you or Snape were anywhere to be found, and we didn't know anything that had happened until we heard that Hagrid had found you in the lake."

Ron cleared his throat.  _"Then Snape appeared on the scene, looking…well…" His voice trailed off._

"Yes," Aeryn said tightly.  "I've seen how he looks."  _Barely a scratch on him, that bastard…._

"No, it wasn't the bruise," said Ron thoughtfully, "it was almost like he was _distraught.  I've never seen him like that before."_

Hermione continued the story.  "By that time everyone knew what had happened to you, and when Dumbledore said something about the events in the classroom, Snape practically begged to take the Veritaserum."

Aeryn's fingernails dug into her blanket.  "So what happened?"

Ron shrugged.  "Snape and Dumbledore and the other Heads went into Dumbledore's office, and when they came back out, Snape had been cleared."  He smiled helplessly at the anger contorting Aeryn's face.

Aeryn's lips tightened.  She threw the covers off her with a sharp gesture.  "I've got to talk to Dumbledore," she exclaimed, swinging her feet to the floor.  "He's got to let me take this Veritaserum, I'll tell him my side of the story—"

Hermione's hands stopped her, pushed her back down on the bed.  "Veritaserum is extremely controlled in use, Aeryn," she said, her brown eyes serious.  "It's darn near impossible to make, and just as impossible to skew the results.  You're not going to be able to take it if they've already got their answer."

"What?" Aeryn gasped.

"She's right, Aeryn.  If Snape said he didn't put you in this condition, then he didn't put you in that condition, and that's that."  Ron's eyes narrowed. "Even though _we know the git's lying."_

Aeryn put a hand to her forehead.  This couldn't be happening.  All her carefully thought-out plans, her way of escape, her one chance to get back at him…_how on earth could he have…"Do you know what he said?" she asked in a low, tight voice._

"No."  Harry shook his head.  "None of the Heads has said anything about what happened, and I don't think they're likely to tell."

"If we get some people from the Potions class, get their side of the story, what they saw happening that afternoon…" But from the look on her friends' faces, Aeryn knew it was a hopeless cause.

Ron looked ready for murder, if given the chance.  "Slytherin's already made sure that what happened in Potions class is hushed up."

She gritted her teeth.  "How?"

"Well, the Slyths all stick behind Snape—that even if he did lay you up like this, that it was self-defense, that you attacked him first for no reason—"

"That's _so not—"_

"And then Malfoy—dear old Draco—" Hermione snorted— "he's vowed that if any of the Gryffindors speak about it, they get the same treatment as Snape gave you."  

Aeryn covered her eyes.  If the whole situation weren't so serious, she would laugh.  Heartily.  She could already feel the hysterical giggles welling up in her chest.  "So the whole world's against me," she muttered softly.

"Not all of it," Hermione said instantly.  She reached across the bed and grasped Aeryn's hand in hers. _"We're going to try and prove what happened."  _

Harry looked as if he wanted to say something more, but Madam Pomfrey burst into the room, clucking her tongue disapprovingly.  "That's enough," the school nurse said briskly, ushering the three students towards the door.  "Miss Blake needs to rest."

"We're behind you all the way, Aeryn," Ron said quickly before his fiery head disappeared from view.

Aeryn lay back against the pillows silently as Madam Pomfrey came towards her with a steaming bowl of soup.  She ate it mechanically, barely tasting the scalding liquid.  Her thoughts were elsewhere.  Just when she had glimpsed an escape, a chance to take charge of her fate, it had been cruelly snatched away….

Madam Pomfrey removed the empty bowl and pulled the sheets back over Aeryn, explaining something about medicine and movement, but Aeryn wasn't listening.  A hazy blanket of sleep swam about her—the soup must have been loaded with drugs, as usual—and Aeryn fell quickly asleep.  But had Madam Pomfrey seen her patient's eyes before they shuttered into oblivion, she would have been shocked at the crystals of ice that had suddenly frozen in their slate-blue depths.

*          *          *

Madam Pomfrey pulled the thermometer from Aeryn's lips and glanced at the reading.

"Can I _please go?" Aeryn pleaded._

Madam Pomfrey's brow furrowed.  Aeryn arranged a suitably hopeful expression on her face.  It was now Wednesday evening, and Aeryn was about ready to scream with boredom.  She had heard from her friends that a Dueling Club was starting that evening, and it was as a good an excuse as any to try and get out of the infirmary wing.  She clasped her hands together.  "_Please, Madam Pomfrey, it's already eight-fifteen and the meeting started at eight."_

The school nurse sighed.  "If I let you go," she said, pointing a finger at Aeryn, "do you _promise only to watch, and not to participate?"_

"I promise," Aeryn exclaimed.  Not that she had much of a choice—her mutant powers _still hadn't returned, and Aeryn was becoming more than a little nervous._

Madam Pomfrey didn't look pleased, but she sighed again and shrugged her shoulders.  "All right, then.  You can go, _but—" as Aeryn happily jumped from the bed— "you're not to exert yourself, understand?  No dueling."_

Aeryn nodded her assent as she pulled on a dressing robe.  One of her black school robes was hanging in the infirmary closet, but Aeryn had no desire to get dressed up just to come back in an hour and put her pajamas on again.  She half-heartedly shoved a hand through her tangled hair.  She probably looked a fright, but beauty was the last thing on her mind at the moment.  With a hurried thanks to Madam Pomfrey, Aeryn started for the Dueling Club meeting.

The infirmary wing wasn't far from the Great Hall, but with her slightly weak muscles, it took Aeryn a good ten minutes to reach the heavy double doors.  They were closed, but Aeryn could hear the low rumble of voices through the thick wood.  It sounded as if most of the school had turned out for the meeting.  

She carefully pushed open the doors and found herself in the middle of chaos.  A greenish haze of smoke was hovering over the scene.  Students were scattered around the room in various states of ill-being—Neville Longbottom and Justin Finch-Fletchley were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus Finnigan, apologizing for something; Millicent Bulstrode had the whimpering Hermione in a headlock, and Harry flew over to pull them apart.

Aeryn had but to glance up at the front of the room to see who was in charge of this mess.  The ubiquitous Gilderoy Lockhart, resplendent today in robes of deep plum, was skittering through the crowd.  "Dear, dear…up you go, Macmillan…careful there, Miss Fawcett, pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot—"

Aeryn's fingers curled against her side as she saw a familiar black-robed figure surveying the pandemonium nonchalantly.  _Snape.  His skin was paler than usual beneath the gashes on his face, but he grinned devilishly as Harry wrested Hermione from Millicent's grasp.  A smoldering rage began to bubble deep inside Aeryn._

"I think I'd better teach you how to _block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the Hall.  He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away.  "Let's have a volunteer pair—Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you—"_

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat.  "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells.  We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox."  Neville's round, pink face went pinker.  Snape slowly looked around at the assembled students.  "How about Mal—"

His coal-black gaze snagged on Aeryn's face, and the Potions master's words choked in his throat.  Aeryn narrowed her eyes and stared coldly back at him, unblinking, and watched his sallow face drain of color.

"Miss Blake!"  Gilderoy Lockhart exclaimed as all the students turned to see what the professor was staring at.  "So glad to see you on your feet, my dear!  How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Aeryn said coolly, watching Snape gulp and quickly look away.  "But don't let me interrupt your meeting."  Her lips curled into a sickeningly sweet smile.  "What were you saying, Professor Snape?"

Lockhart turned to look at his partner.

"Malfoy and Potter," the Potions master choked, rearranging his face into a semblance of normality.  "Use Malfoy and Potter as…volunteers."

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.  "Now, Harry…when Draco points his wand at you, you do _this."  He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it.  Malfoy smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops—my wand is a little overexcited—"_

Aeryn watched as Snape trained his eyes on the floor, apparently fighting to keep his face expressionless.

"Professor," Harry said nervously, "could you show me that blocking thing again?"

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder.  "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"  But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three—two—one—_go!"_

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, _"Serpensortia!"_

The end of his wand exploded.  Aeryn watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between Malfoy and Harry, and raised itself, ready to strike.  There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Don't worry, Harry, I'll get rid of it!" shouted Lockhart.  He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack.  Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Aeryn started forward; to do what, she wasn't sure—but Harry was suddenly at the snake's side, and a sharp _hissing noise erupted from his mouth, and, miraculously—inexplicably—the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry.  Aeryn took a hesitant step backwards._

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin shouted, his face twisted in anger and fear.  Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Justin turned and stormed out of the Hall.  Snape stepped quickly forward, waved his wand, and the snake disappeared in a small puff of black smoke.

Aeryn glanced around the Hall.  An ominous muttering had arisen among the students, who were all staring at Harry with very hard eyes.  Aeryn watched helplessly as Ron grabbed Harry by the arm and steered him out of the Hall, Hermione hurrying alongside them.  Aeryn almost followed them, but hung back as the students drew away from Harry as though they were frightened of catching something.  Her three friends hurried through the doors, which shut behind them with a loud _boom._

A heavy silence filled the Hall.

"Ah…well," Lockhart exclaimed cheerily after a moment, grinning broadly at the somber faces before him.  "That's probably enough excitement for one meeting, eh?  You're all dismissed, and I'll let you know in class when the next meeting will be held."

Aeryn waited quietly as the rest of the students hurried from the room, her ears catching the mutters to their pale-faced neighbors—"_Parselmouth, should have known"—"only Salazar Slytherin's descendants can speak it, do you think"—"poor Justin—Potter's had it in for him from day one—"_

Snape had sat down on the edge of the golden stage lining the far wall, his head in his hands.  Aeryn walked slowly towards him, shouldering her way through the mass of students going the opposite direction.  Her slippered feet whispered against the stone floor as she stopped in front of him.

"Hello, Professor," she said quietly.

Snape's head jerked up.  Beads of sweat rimmed his sallow brow.  "Miss Blake," he gasped.  "You're better, I'm so glad—"

"You patronizing, snake-faced son of a bitch," she hissed.  "Don't you _dare pretend you're concerned for my well-being."_

He held out a hand.  "Miss Blake—"

"How did you do it, _Professor?" she sneered.  "Damnably impossible to do, lie under the influence of Veritaserum.  How'd you do it, hypnosis?  You're so good at magic, maybe you cast a Memory Charm over all the teachers so they'd __forget what you did to me!"_

Snape unsteadily rose to his feet.  "Miss Blake, we have to talk—"

Aeryn pushed him forcefully in the chest, sending him tumbling onto the stage.  "No more talking," she snarled, her slate-blue eyes blazing.  "I don't know what you did to my mutant powers, but I nearly killed you without them, and I sure as _hell_ can finish the job without them."  Her hands clenched into fists as she leaned forward over the Potions master.  "If you ever so much as _look at me again in a way that I don't like, I will—"_

"Miss Blake!" cried a cheery, unwelcome voice beside her.  Aeryn swallowed a scream as Gilderoy Lockhart caught her shoulder and turned her to face him.  His periwinkle-blue eyes twinkled.  "We've been _so worried about you, my dear, and I can't tell you how __relieved I am that you're feeling better."_

"Thanks," Aeryn muttered through tight lips as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor patted her cheek.

"I must say, I've missed seeing your smiling face in class," Lockhart continued, putting a comradely arm around her stiff shoulders.  "Have your friends kept you up-to-date on what we've been doing?  No?"  He pursed his lips thoughtfully.  "Well, if you've got time now—the night is still young—I would be honored if you would accompany me to my rooms, and I could give you your homework—get you something to drink—"

"Don't even think about it, Lockhart," snarled the Potions master.  Aeryn turned to see him on his feet, his coal-black gaze hot enough to blister as he glared at Lockhart.

Pressed against the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's side, Aeryn felt Lockhart stiffen, then give a barking laugh.  "Severus, really," Lockhart said in a sorrowful voice.  "I'm hurt that you would think I had any ill intentions towards Miss Blake."  Aeryn looked up in time to see a hard, knowing expression cross his handsome face.  _"I, at least, know the rules against student-teacher relationships."_

Snape did not move, but his lips turned white.

Lockhart heaved a sigh and removed his arm from Aeryn's shoulders.  "Perhaps it would not be the wisest thing, after all—you're still not looking one hundred percent better, and I'm sure Madam Pomfrey wants you to get some rest tonight."  A wide, toothy grin split his face.  "I shall bid you adieu for now, Miss Blake, and hope that your charming features will grace my class again in the near future."  He bobbed his handsome head in a bow and whirled away in a swirl of plum.

Aeryn's throat was burning.  Lifting her chin haughtily, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the double doors of the Hall.

"Miss Blake!"

Aeryn did not stop.  "Leave me alone, Professor," she hissed between clenched teeth.

_"Libertario," he whispered softly an instant before the Hall doors slammed shut._

Aeryn strode back to the hospital wing, shaking with fury.  Madam Pomfrey swooped on her the instant she walked into the room, holding out several vials of medicine for her to take.  Aeryn drank the draughts down without complaint and crawled back into her bed, a loud ringing echoing in her ears.

She was beginning to feel the effects of the sleeping draught when Aeryn realized the curtains hadn't been drawn.  Madam Pomfrey had already bustled off to bed, so Aeryn yawned and instinctively reached out for the curtains with her mind.

It wasn't until she heard the metallic scrape of the curtain rings as the drapes slithered shut that she realized that her mutant powers had returned.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_Yes, the "as you wish" is yet another reference to one of the greatest films of all time, 'The Princess Bride.'_


	23. That Same Pit

Chapter 23:  That Same Pit 

Aeryn pulled her black robe over her head and looked at herself in the infirmary mirror.  It was Friday, and the bruises marring her body had faded to a pale saffron.  Madam Pomfrey had decided on the last day of the term that Aeryn was well enough to be integrated back into normal Hogwarts life.  Aeryn ran a finger beneath her eyes, as if she could wipe away the dark circles hollowing the sockets.  With a shrug, she turned away from the mirror and picked up her wand from the bedside table.  As she did, her eyes drifted to the dark forms in the beds beside hers, and a frown creased her face. 

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand, and the rumpled sheets on Aeryn's bed were instantly gone.  "You'll need to take the potion I gave you twice a day, in the morning and before you go to bed," she explained, re-sheeting the bed with another wave of her wand.

Aeryn walked between the beds and stared down soberly at the two newest additions to the infirmary.  The rumors were as thick as honey in the Hogwarts air, and Aeryn had heard every one: Harry Potter was a Parselmouth and quite frequently talked with snakes; Harry Potter _hated _Muggles, it was obvious, he complained nonstop about the ones he lived with; and—the most unbelievable rumor of all—Harry Potter was the _Heir of Slytherin, _and had opened the Chamber of Secrets!

Aeryn knew for a fact that the rumors were a load of bunk, but the school had been sent into a panic after Harry Potter, the _famous _Harry Potter, _Dumbledore's pet _Harry Potter, had been found in the hallway with the Petrified forms of Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick at his feet.  Although Harry had been sent to Headmaster Dumbledore's office and _nothing _had happened to him—the very thought of _Harry _Petrifying anyone was beyond ridiculous—the students of Hogwarts had been thrown into a tizzy.  Poor Harry was avoided like a troll by everyone, save for the Weasleys, Hermione, and Aeryn.

Aeryn reached out and very gently trailed her fingertips across Justin's face, his features frozen in a mask of shock.  

"Have you been raped, Miss Blake?" Madam Pomfrey asked in a very quiet voice.

Aeryn stilled, her fingers suddenly cold.  She turned around slowly, a wave of nausea spreading through her.  "Wha…what?"

Madam Pomfrey's face was expressionless.  "I examined your wounds thoroughly when you were brought in, Miss Blake, and some of the…injuries…" She coughed awkwardly.  "There was definite bruising pattern that…made me suspect…"

A heavy buzzing droned in Aeryn's ears.  She shook her head frantically, feeling the blood rise in her cheeks.  "No," she said in a dull voice.  "No, I…haven't been raped."

Madam Pomfrey's lips twisted, and she took a hesitant step forward.  "Miss Blake…rape can be defined in many different ways, and is found in many different situations."  She placed a hand on Aeryn's arm.  "It is not just when a man attacks a woman and—"

"I know what rape is, Madam," Aeryn said harshly, pulling away from the school nurse's touch.  _Boy, do I ever.  _She looked into Madam Pomfrey's face, feeling bile rise in her throat.  She wanted so badly to say it had been Snape, to tell _someone _what he had done to her…_but he took Veritaserum, _the tiny voice in her head protested, and the words died in her throat.  She gritted her teeth.  "It was…consensual sex."  The words chafed in her throat.

A flash of emotion crossed the school nurse's face; a mixture of displeasure, disgust, and—Aeryn bit her lip—doubt.  "May I enquire as to—"

"No," Aeryn snapped.  She turned quickly away, unable to look at the older woman.  Blindly, she reached out again for Justin's face.  His frozen expression mirrored the emotions in her own heart…she must not speak…must not….

After a long, tense moment, Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat nervously. "Now, if you feel ill again—even the _slightest bit weak—you're to come to me immediately," the school nurse said in a voice that fell just short of its normal vibrancy._

Aeryn reached out her other hand and held it a fraction above Nearly Headless Nick's visage.  His normally pearl-white translucency was black and charred.

Behind her, Madam Pomfrey sighed.  "Poor things," she murmured sympathetically.  "As soon as Daisy's Mandrakes mature, we'll be able to get them well—but, still, it's such a shame—and especially at Christmas, their poor families…."  The school nurse appeared at her shoulder.  She shook her head gently and heaved another sigh.  "You're going home for Christmas, aren't you, dear?" she asked.

The air above Nick's skin was chill, and Aeryn was reminded of raking her fingers through a bucket of ice.  She looked at his face, then Justin's, then at Colin's in the last bed.  Very slowly, she shook her head.  "No," she said.  "I'm staying here at Hogwarts."

*          *          *

At last the term ended, and a silence deep as the snow on the grounds descended on the castle.  After the double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, there had been a stampede of students to book seats on the Hogwarts Express, leaving Harry, Hermione, Aeryn, and the Weasleys the run of Gryffindor Tower.

"We're the only ones left," Ron moaned to Harry, Hermione, and Aeryn over a game of Exploding Snap.  "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.  What a jolly holiday this is."  But the shy smile he shot at Aeryn belied his grumbled words.  The three Gryffindors had nearly been beside themselves with joy when they found out that Aeryn had decided to spend Christmas with them and help with the Polyjuice Potion.

Christmas morning dawned cold and white.  Aeryn was awakened rudely when her sheets were suddenly grabbed by a pair of hands and pulled off her sleeping body.

"Hermione," Aeryn groaned, curling up into a little ball against the chill air.

"_Joyeux Noel," _the bushy-haired girl said briskly, throwing open the curtains.  Aeryn winced as the sunlight came streaming into the room.  "Come on now, you can't still be tired.  I've been up for nearly an hour.  Let's go see the boys."

"Sadist," Aeryn grumbled under her breath.  But she obligingly stretched, wiped the sleep from her eyes, and pulled out a small pile of brightly wrapped packages from beneath her bed.  Thanks to her stint in the infirmary, Aeryn had been unable to go Christmas shopping for her friends, but the helpful Oliver Wood had been more than happy to play errand-boy.  A small, exasperated smile twitched Aeryn's lips.  Although his puppy-dog love was slightly annoying, Aeryn had to admit that the boy was endearing.

Harry and Ron, the only ones left in their dormitory, flinched as Hermione bounded into their room and pulled back the curtains at the window.

"Hermione—you're not supposed to be in here—" said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," said Hermione, throwing him his present.  

Harry rolled his eyes despairingly towards Aeryn.  "Make her go away," he pleaded.

"Sorry," Aeryn yawned, flopping down wearily on Harry's four-poster.  "It's dangerous to get in the way of a rampaging madwoman."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at Aeryn and shifted Scabbers the rat so that she could sit down on the end of Ron's bed.  "I've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion.  It's ready."

Aeryn, Ron, and Harry all sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded.  "Positive.  If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."

Harry and Ron glanced nervously at each other, but before they could say anything, Aeryn thrust a set of packages under their noses.  "Stop it," she said sternly.  "I refuse to let my first Christmas at Hogwarts start off with you two looking like scared little first years."  A sly grin lit her face.  "You can save that expression for when I cream you in the snowball fight this afternoon."

For the next half hour, the four friends occupied themselves with opening their Christmas parcels with the occasional oooh or ahhh.  Aeryn hadn't received such enjoyable Christmas presents in years.  Hagrid had sent her a charming wooden bracelet that looked as if he had carved it himself, and Aeryn smiled sheepishly as she unwrapped a lovely pair of leather gloves from Oliver Wood.  A delicate teacup and saucer made of bone china was from Professor Sprout—along with a small note saying that she hoped Aeryn felt better and an invitation to tea over the holiday.  Fred and George's lumpy package exploded in her hands with a burst of confetti, causing Aeryn to shriek, but turned out to be a large box of Chocolate Frogs.  As Aeryn unwrapped her last present, she groaned—and a cheerfully waving picture of Gilderoy Lockhart beamed up at her from beneath his loopy signature, scrawled in vibrant blue ink.

 "You're not done yet," Ron exclaimed quickly as Aeryn flung the photograph like a Frisbee to the end of the bed.  "We've still got something for you."  

Harry leapt from his bed and threw open his trunk.  Aeryn raised a startled eyebrow as he breathlessly handed her a large, flat package.

"It's from all three of us," Hermione said as Aeryn carefully tore the wrapping off.  "It's sort of a belated Happy Birthday, Get Well, and Christmas present, since we didn't get you anything…."

Aeryn drew in a sharp breath as the paper fell away and she was left holding a beautifully framed picture.  A gentle-faced, mahogany haired woman with a brilliant smile hugged a tanned, handsome man with slate-blue eyes.  It was a familiar portrait; it had been taken when Aeryn's parents went on their honeymoon, and it had sat beside Aeryn's bed every night after she moved to England.  But something was drastically different.  The colors were more vibrant, the image sharper…Aeryn's hands trembled suddenly as the two figures looked up at her and _waved_.  

"How…" Aeryn's vision blurred as the image of her mother blew her a kiss.  "How…did you…"

"Well, it did take a while," Ron said, grinning broadly.  "Harry's actually the one who thought of it, 'cause he knew you had a picture of your parents with you—"

"—But we only thought of it because Ron said that Bill had done something like this before," Harry explained, pointing at his friend.  "So we got the picture out of your dorm—"

"—It would have worked better if you'd had some negatives here, but this turned out okay, too—"

"—It wasn't too hard to make the potion," Hermione said, "and Professor McGonagall was able to get me some enchanted photography paper so I could transfer the image of your original photograph."

"Once we got all the ingredients," said Harry, "Professor Flitwick let Ron and me use his darkroom and we developed the picture."  He looked down at the photograph and grinned.  "It turned out good, didn't it?"

The image of Roger Blake winked up at his daughter and mouthed the words _I love you_.

Hermione ran a finger across the delicately carved oak frame.  "Ron's mum got this for us," she explained.  "The wood's enchanted so that the picture won't fade, no matter how long you keep it.  And the glass is shatterproof, so you won't have to worry about knocking it on the floor."

Aeryn hugged the picture to her chest, too moved to speak.  But, judging from the looks on her friends' faces, that was thanks enough.

*          *          *

The Great Hall looked magnificent.  Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling.  

Fat, roast turkeys graced the tables; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes loomed from between platters of chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, and silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce.  Stacks of wizard crackers were scattered every few feet along the table.  Aeryn pulled a cracker and jumped as it didn't just bang, it exploded with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. By the time the flaming Christmas puddings arrived, Aeryn and Hermione were wearing a jester's cap and a racing helmet, respectively, and Ron and Harry had both donned traditional Beefeater hats.

Percy Weasley, who hadn't noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept asking them all what they were sniggering at.  Dumbledore lead them in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming louder and louder with each goblet of eggnog he consumed.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione sang their hearts out, but Aeryn contented herself by tapping her spoon against her golden plate and humming softly to herself—she would be the first to admit that her singing resembled birdsong, but she wasn't proud of the fact that the bird was a crow.  

A small, relieved smile twitched her lips as she saw Professor Snape's empty seat at the staff table.  It appeared as if the Potions master was playing Scrooge for the day.  Aeryn couldn't think of a better way to spend Christmas.

Aeryn, Harry, and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione ushered them out of the hall to finalize their plans for the evening.

"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said the young witch matter-of-factly.  "And, obviously, it'll be best if you boys can get something of Crabbe and Goyle's—they're Malfoy's best friends, he'll tell them anything.  And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him."

Aeryn chewed on her lip as Hermione explained to Ron and Harry how they were to drug Malfoy's goons with chocolate cakes filled with Sleeping Draught.  In theory, the plan sounded good, but it could go seriously wrong.  And, she wondered, what was she supposed to do?  She wanted to use the Polyjuice Potion and help her friends in their undercover scheme—after all, she already had experience with the mixture—but whom could she transform into?

"But what about you and Aeryn?" asked Harry suddenly, as if reading Aeryn's thoughts.  "Whose hair are you ripping out?"

Hermione pulled a tiny bottle out of her pocket and showed them the single hair inside it.  "Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Dueling Club?  She left this on my robes when she was trying to strangle me.  And she's gone home for Christmas—so I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back."

Ron looked at Aeryn, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Oh, I've—er—already got mine," Aeryn said hastily, plastering a smile on her face.  "When I was in the hospital wing before the end of term, um…"  She racked her brain for a familiar face that she hadn't seen at the Slytherin table that afternoon.  "…Pansy Parkinson came in because she had…sprained her finger…so when Madam Pomfrey went to fix her up, I just…" The story was horrendously lame, even by Aeryn's standards, but she continued on.  "…walked by and picked a stray hair off her robe."

There was silence for a moment.

Hermione shrugged.  "Great, then we're all set."  She grinned happily, and bustled off to check on the Polyjuice Potion.  Ron turned to Harry with a doom-laden expression.  

"Have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?"

Aeryn secretly agreed.

*          *          *

While the boys carried out stage one of the operation, Aeryn and Hermione waited in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  Every few moments Hermione would stir the cauldron, peering anxiously into the mixture.  Aeryn tried not to cough too much as a thick black smoke issued from the bubbling, glutinous potion.  She set four glass tumblers on the toilet seat and wiped her brow with her sleeve, wondering what was taking Ron and Harry so long.

There was a knock on the stall door.  "Girls?" 

Hermione unlocked the door and stepped from the stall.  "Did you get them?" she asked breathlessly.  Harry showed her the hair.  "Good," the young witch beamed, holding up a sack.  "And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry.  You'll need bigger sizes after you've changed.  And this is for you—" as she handed Aeryn a standard-issue black robe.

"Now," Hermione said, nervously rereading the splotched page of _Moste Potente Potions_, "Once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly one hour before we change back into ourselves."

Harry, Ron, and Aeryn watched silently as Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the tumblers.  Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of its bottle and into the first glass.  The potion hissed and turned a sick sort of yellow.

"Urgh—essence of Millicent Bulstrode," said Ron, eyeing it with loathing.  "Bet it tastes disgusting."

"Add yours, then," said Hermione.

Harry and Ron dropped their hairs into respective glasses, and the potions inside frothed madly and turned nauseating colors.  Aeryn dropped a hair—one of her own—into the last tumbler, and curled her hand swiftly around the glass before anyone could comment on the clear, ruby-red color.

"Hang on," said Harry.  "We'd better not all drink them in here…once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle, we won't fit…and Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie."

"Good thinking," Ron said, unlocking the door.  "We'll take separate stalls."

Aeryn slipped into the second-to-last stall.  With very steady fingers, she placed the tumbler on the toilet seat.

"Ready?" came Harry's voice.

"Ready," answered Aeryn, Ron, and Hermione.  

Aeryn acted quickly.  As she heard her friends groan and writhe as they drank the Polyjuice Potion, she dashed the contents of her tumbler into the toilet.  Closing her eyes, she concentrated, drawing upon the image of Pansy Parkinson…stringy blond hair, flopping to her shoulders…thin, pinched white face…watery green eyes….

"Are you three okay?" came Goyle's low rasp of a voice, startling her.

"Yeah," grunted Crabbe's voice.

Aeryn cautiously unlocked the stall door and stepped in front of the cracked mirror.  Crabbe and Goyle were already standing before her, gaping at their reflections and prodding their features disbelievingly.  

"Wow," Ron/Crabbe said, his dull eyes looking Aeryn over.  "That's _unbelievable_."

Aeryn peeked quickly into the mirror.  Pansy Parkinson scowled back at her, and Aeryn breathed a silent sigh of relief.  Her illusion would work.

"We'd better get going," she murmured softly, doing her best to imitate Pansy's weak, high-pitched voice.

"We've still go to find out where the Slytherin common room is," said Harry/Goyle, loosening his watch.  "I only hope we can find someone to follow…."

Aeryn wisely kept Pansy's mouth shut.

Ron banged on Hermione's stall.  "C'mon, we need to go—"

A high pitched voice answered him.  "I—I don't think I'm going to come out after all.  You guys go on without me."

"Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly, no one's going to know it's you—"

"No—really—I don't think I'll come.  You three hurry up, you're wasting time—"

"Hermione, are you okay?" said Aeryn through the door.

"Fine—I'm fine—go on—"

Aeryn wasn't convinced, but a glance at Harry's watch showed that five of their precious sixty minutes had passed.  "We'll meet you back here, all right?" Harry said, and he, Aeryn, and Ron slithered from the bathroom.

As the boys discussed how Crabbe and Goyle were supposed to walk, Aeryn lead them down the marble staircase.  Of course, she knew how to get to the Slytherin common room, but to lead them there herself would probably bring more questions than it was worth…if only they could find a Slytherin to follow….

"Any ideas?" muttered Harry.

There was no one coming.  Aeryn decided to risk it.  "The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," she said, pointing to the entrance to the dungeons.  "It can't be too hard to find on our own."

Harry and Ron, after a quick look at each other, followed her down the stone steps into darkness.  The labyrinthine corridors were deserted.  Aeryn bit her lip as they walked deeper and deeper under the school.  Nearly a quarter hour had passed, and the boys were beginning to look desperate.

She gritted her teeth and veered around a corner.  "Let's try this way," she said over her shoulder, her feet slapping against the stone floor.  Her shoulders hunched as she turned another corner—they were very close to the common room now.  They needed a real Slytherin, and they needed one _now_, before Aeryn started answering questions she couldn't afford to answer—

"There you are!"

Crabbe, Goyle, and Aeryn turned.  Draco Malfoy was strolling towards them, and for the first time in her life, Aeryn was thrilled to see him.

"Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time?" he asked Ron and Harry.  "I've been looking for you.  I want to show you something really funny."

He glanced at Aeryn, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

"What are you doing back, Parkinson?  Thought you were spending the holidays in Sweden."

Aeryn tossed her head.  "I got bored," she said loftily, shrugging her now-thin shoulders.

Malfoy sniggered.  "Don't blame you—your family's a real snooze.  Well, good, I'll show you, too."  He sauntered down the hallway, and the three Gryffindors hurried after him.  

He paused by a stretch of bare, damp wall.  "What's the new password again?" he said to Harry.

"Er—" said Harry.

Malfoy turned to Ron, who looked suitably bewildered.  "This is ridiculous," Malfoy muttered.  "Parkinson?  D'you have any guess?"

Aeryn strove not to flinch.  She knew the password, of course—Snape had given her an entire list of passwords to memorize—but she wouldn't say it, couldn't say it…her friends' tense faces made her glance back down at her watch.  She was acutely aware of every precious minute ticking away.

Malfoy slammed his hand against the wall.  "If none of you know it, we'll just go up to the Great Hall and—"

"Pure-blood," Aeryn said automatically, not looking at either Ron or Harry as the concealed stone door slid open.  Malfoy marched through it, and Harry, Ron, and Aeryn followed him into the Slytherin common room.

"Wait here," said Malfoy, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire.  "I'll go and get it—my father's just sent it to me—" He hurried through a door at the side of the room.

Ron leaned forward once Malfoy disappeared from view.  "How'd you know the password?" he hissed to Aeryn.

Aeryn nervously shook her head and put a finger to her lips as Malfoy reappeared, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping.  He thrust it under Ron's nose.  "That'll give you a laugh," he said.

Aeryn saw Ron's eyes widen in shock.  He read the clipping very quickly, gave a forced laugh, and handed it to Harry.  Harry also read it silently, and handed it to Aeryn.

"Well? Don't you think it's funny?" said Malfoy impatiently to the boys as Aeryn read the clipping.  It had been clipped from the _Daily Prophet_, and Aeryn's jaw clenched as she read the story.  Ron's father had been fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a car—the car that Ron and Harry had used to fly to Hogwarts.  There was a particularly nasty quote from Malfoy's father, saying that Mr. Weasley had "brought the ministry into disrepute," and that he was "clearly unfit to draw up our laws."

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go join them," said Malfoy scornfully.

Ron's face was contorted in fury.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.

"Stomachache," Ron grunted.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," Malfoy said, snickering.  "You know, I'm surprised the _Daily Prophet_ hasn't reported all these attacks yet—I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up.  He'll be sacked if he doesn't stop soon.  Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that every happened to this place.  He loves Muggle-borns.  A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin.  Aeryn clenched her fists and turned her head away from his leering face before she gave herself away.

A door at the end of the room swung suddenly open, and Aeryn's eyes grew cold as a familiar figure walked in.  He walked towards the fire, the light pooling in his angular features.  His glittering black eyes swept over the students in the common room as Malfoy continued talking to Ron and Harry, and stopped on Aeryn's enchanted face.

"Miss Parkinson."  Professor Snape crooked a finger towards Aeryn.  Aeryn could feel hot blood rising in her cheeks.  Slowly, she got to her feet and walked towards the Potions master.  She forced herself to breathe normally as she lifted Pansy Parkinson's eyes to his face.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked stiffly.

"Miss Parkinson, I need you to do something for me."  He was leaning against the fireplace, and Aeryn noticed the beads of sweat rolling down his pale face.  His glistening eyes were fever-bright, and as he lifted a hand to pull a clumped strand of hair from his face, she could see him trembling violently.  He licked his cracked lips.  "Go to Gryffindor Tower and tell Miss Blake that I want to see her.  Now."

Aeryn—or, rather, Pansy—froze.  "What?"

The Potions master winced, and his fingers curled against his black robe.  "Tell her to meet me—immediately—in my office," he gasped, his sallow face draining of all color.  

Aeryn stared at him with unabashed loathing.

"Do it now, Miss Parkinson," Snape hissed sharply, his eyes regaining a fraction of their usual iciness. 

Aeryn took a step back.  Behind her, she heard a loud "Ho!" from Ron, and a clatter that sounded as if the two boys had leapt to their feet.  The hour must be up.  Aeryn's lips tightened and she whirled on her heel, dashing from the Slytherin common room after her friends.

A smoldering rage rose in her body with every step that she took back up the marble staircase.  He _dared_—after all that he had done—to summon her _yet again_—

A red miasma began to swim before her eyes as she stalked into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  Harry was checking his now-normal face in the cracked mirror while Ron pounded on the door of Hermione's stall.

"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you—"

"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.

Moaning Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door, looking positively gleeful.  "Ooooooh, wait 'till you see—it's _awful_—" the ghost said.

The lock slid back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.

"What's up?" said Ron uncertainly.  "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"

Hermione let her robes fall back, and Ron backed into the sink.  Her face was covered in black fur.  Her eyes had turned yellow, and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.  "It was a c-cat hair!" she howled.  "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat!  And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"

"You'll be teased something _dreadful_," said Myrtle happily.

Aeryn regarded her witch friend calmly, as if she were merely watching a scene unfold in a movie.  "Take her to Madam Pomfrey," she said in a quiet voice that was not her own, taking a step forward.  "She never asks too many questions."

Harry turned to look at her, and his bottle-green eyes widened slightly.  "How come you're still transformed?" he asked warily.

Aeryn's eyes flickered to the cracked mirror.  She was still wearing the illusion of Pansy Parkinson.  With an impassive face, she let the illusion slide from her shoulders like an old coat, ignoring the sudden gasps from her friends.  Even Hermione stopped sobbing long enough to gape at her.

Aeryn stretched out an open hand.  "Give me your pocketknife, Ron."

Ron's face blanched beneath his mop of red hair.  "What for?"

"I've got some unfinished business with Professor Snape."  Aeryn's body felt very cold.

Ron clamped his hand protectively over his pocket.  "How did you change like that just now?" he asked in a shaky voice.

Aeryn's lips firmed in a line of displeasure.  "I don't have time for this, Ron," she muttered, taking a step towards him.

Ron shook his head and backed up.  "You're acting really weird, Aeryn," he said bravely, with only a small quaver in his voice.  "What's this all about?"

She didn't have time for this.  A snarl twitched Aeryn's lips, and with a small jerk of her head, Ron's hand pulled back from his pocket and his folded knife flew from his pocket into Aeryn's outstretched palm.  "Get Hermione to the hospital wing," she said in a low voice, starting for the bathroom door.

"No!" Harry cried suddenly, his voice splintering like glass in Aeryn's eardrums.

Aeryn paused, her fingers tightening around the knife.

"Ron's right, Aeryn."  Harry's robe rustled as he walked towards her.  Very slowly, Aeryn turned to look at him.  His green eyes were bright beneath his unruly hair.  She saw him swallow hard and lift his chin stubbornly.  "We want some answers."

A distant hum buzzed faintly in her ears.  "You don't know what you're asking, Harry." 

Her friend clenched his thin hands into fists.  "I want to know what it is, right now," he demanded.  "Like now, when you—your transformation—"  

"Stop," she hissed, whirling on her heel, away from him.

"How did you know the password to the Slytherin common room, Aeryn?" he said suddenly.

Aeryn's hand stopped inches from the door.

"And none of us had ever been down there before, so how was it that you _happened_ to find the way down there?" 

The muscles in Aeryn's back knotted.

Harry's voice became stronger.  "You've been acting oddly ever since school began, Aeryn," he exclaimed.  "You—you're quiet, you're secretive, you sneak out of Gryffindor Tower at night…."  He snorted; a harsh, explosive sound.  "Not to mention _Potions class_—the day you ended up in the infirmary—"

Aeryn's hands clenched.

"You attacked a _teacher_," Harry continued accusingly.  "And you said something to him in class—_whatever problems you have with my friends, you take it out on me, not them, you promised_—what did that mean, Aeryn?"

Aeryn's breathing came quick and heavy in her chest, and she closed her eyes, struggling to hold on to what little control she had.  _Breathe, just breathe…stay calm…._

"What is going on between you and Snape?" Harry asked in a low, hard voice, and the words were like salt water poured on the raw surface of Aeryn's soul.

She spun on her heel, her slate-blue eyes blazing with intense fury.  _"Do you want to know?"_ she spat, drawing herself up to her full height.  _"FINE!"_  With a savage snarl, she threw her hands up in front of her and a telepathic tidal wave of pent-up memories and emotions _hurtled_ towards the three young Gryffindors.

_Mutants…witch hunt…the owl, it looks just like Dad's…a despairing joy filled her when the faces of her parents' killers turned pale as she pulled away their power—she had taken just enough of her father's power to make his wand shoot sparks; she was magical, but only just—_

_"You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—"_

Illusions and mind-manipulation…it was almost like magic— 

_"You would have been an…_exquisite_…addition to Slytherin House."  His cold eyes slowly traced the beading at the neck of her robe—_

_His hands were resting far too comfortably on her shoulders, and the gleam in his coal-black eyes as he stared at her in the mirror sent alarm signals through her body—  _

_"No more subterfuge, Miss Blake.  I am tired of my advances being ignored—"_

_"Quid pro quo, Miss Blake_—_You will not attack me with any of your mutant powers, or I swear that I will kill you.  Do you understand_—"

I…ACCEPT… 

_"Seventy points…for Gryffindor_—"

_The macabre parody of a kiss he pressed to her lips every night as she left his chambers, a claim of total ownership, a gesture of cruelty and utter contempt that was more painful than a dagger's thrust_—__

_His fists smashing into her face and body with superhuman force—"How dare you attack me, you little bitch_—"

_"You can't tell them if you're dead," he said evenly, with stoic, lucid eyes_—__

"Avada Ked—" _There was a loud crunch—he crumpled on the ground like a limp rag and did not move—_

Aeryn _pulled_ the flood of memories back, drawing them back into her mind with a soft hiss.  She could feel the thin sheen of sweat beading her brow as she shoved Ron's knife into the pocket of her robe.

The faces of her friends were terrible to look upon.  Hermione's now-yellow eyes were open wide in shock, and Ron's mouth gaped in a horrified "O."  Even Myrtle was gurgling morosely, her hollow eyes goggling at Aeryn—and Harry—his face—

Aeryn looked away quickly.

"You're a…mutant…." choked Ron.

Aeryn's hands were trembling, and a fury as hot and painful as smoldering coals pulsed through her veins.

"Get Hermione to the infirmary," she whispered in a terrible voice and, fingering the knife in her pocket, stalked from the bathroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from a short story of the same name from 'Shakespearean Whodunits,'  an anthology of murder stories written about Shakespeare's plays (a form of fanfiction in its own right, if you will!)._


	24. The Monster You Were Intended To Be

Chapter 24: The Monster You Were Intended To Be 

_You're a mutant…you're a mutant…._

The words echoed in Aeryn's ears as she stalked down the damp steps to Snape's office.  Their faces…the way her friends had looked at her…but she pushed those thoughts away, her slate-blue eyes hardening with every step.  Within minutes, she had reached the sturdy oak door of his office.  She drew Ron's knife from her pocket and flicked it open with sure fingers.

The door creaked open under her touch.  Snape's office had the same warmth and aesthetic appeal as his classroom.  No pickled animals bobbed along the walls, but crusts of slime patched the stone.  A moldering tapestry showing Saint George slaying the dragon graced one wall, but scarcely added to the decor.  The Potions master was crumpled over the top of his sparse desk.  His head lifted as Aeryn entered the room, and his feverish gaze brightened slightly.

"Miss Blake."  He ran a hand absently across his face, as if he were wiping cobwebs away from his gaze.  "I realize that my request—"

Aeryn crossed the room in three quick steps and buried her fingers in his greasy black hair.  "How—_dare—_you—" she snarled, yanking his head backwards and pressing the knife blade to his exposed throat.  His hair between her fingers was slick with sweat.  "I told you," she spat.  "I _told _you—if you so much as _looked _at me—"

Snape was very still beneath her grasp.  "Miss Blake—"

Aeryn dug the edge of the knife into the skin, cutting off his words.  "Whatever happened to _Aeryn?" _she hissed mockingly, watching as his long fingers curled slightly against his armrests.  "Come on, now—I thought we had dismissed all those pretentious niceties long ago."

Snape's breathing was raspy, as if he were struggling to draw air into his lungs.  "I won't pretend…that your actions aren't justified," he murmured quietly after a moment.  A heavy bead of sweat trailed down his cheek.

"You're damn right," Aeryn murmured back, "and I'll swear that all the way to Dumbledore himself, even under the influence of _Veritaserum."  _She brought her lips close to the Potion master's ear.  "That was a fabulous trick, by the way, lying under the influence…care to teach me?"

"I can explain that—"

"Really?" Aeryn purred, yanking back on his hair until he winced.  "Go ahead, if you like—it'll spare your pathetic life for a few moments."

Snape drew another consumptive breath.  Aeryn wrinkled her nose.  The Potions master stank of old sweat, and his skin was hot beneath her fingertips.  "What time is it?" he muttered suddenly.

Aeryn blinked, startled, but kept the knife firmly pressed to his throat.  "Why?" she asked warily.

Snape coughed slightly.  "Because I need to know," he said weakly.  "It's an innocuous enough request, I think."

Aeryn's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she made sure her hands were fast in his hair and she glanced down at her wrist.  "It's about six—"

Snape's hands shot up and grabbed her wrists.  Before Aeryn could react, he leaned forward and pitched her over his head.  Her shoulder blades smacked onto his desktop, knocking most of the wind from her lungs.  He tore the knife from her hand and Aeryn slithered to the floor, gasping, but she pulled herself to her feet, whirling to face him as she reared back to strike with her telepathic powers—

And the Potions master leaned across the desk and thrust the knife, handle towards her, under her nose.

Aeryn froze.

"He'll be here any second now," Snape said in a low voice, his coal-black eyes burning feverishly into hers.  "Take the knife and hide, somehow, where you can see."  He motioned his head towards the crumbling tapestry.  "If you stand behind that, you can cast an illusion over it so it appears flat, and look through the holes in the fabric."

Aeryn gaped at him, dumb with shock.  The knife was trembling in the Potions master's hand, and it looked as if he was struggling to remain standing.  She took a cautious step backwards.  "Tell me what's going on," she said flatly.

Snape drew a breath as if to say something, but a barking cough wracked his body.  He doubled over, coughing violently, and the knife clattered from his hand to the floor.  Shuddering, he dropped back into his chair.  "Miss Blake—" he gasped between coughs.  "I will answer—all of your questions—later—"

"Why?" Aeryn asked stubbornly.  "Give me one good reason why I should do what you—"

A loud knock resounded on the oak door, splintering through her words.  

"That's him," Snape muttered.  "Hide yourself, now." 

Aeryn snorted.  "Ashamed to be seen with me, is that it, Professor?"

The person outside the door knocked again, louder.

Snape heaved himself to his feet and glared at her. _"Do it, Miss Blake," _he hissed, and for a moment, she could see the feral fire blazing behind his eyes, and he was once again the Potions master who had stood above her with a bloodied mouth, his wand leveled and ready to cast the final and worst Forbidden Curse….

The knife flew from the floor into Aeryn's hand, and she ducked behind the tapestry without another word, throwing an illusion of flatness over the threadbare fabric as she peered out through a hole.  Snape slumped back into his chair, his face horribly pale.

"Enter," he croaked.

The sturdy oak door opened with a heavy _creak, _and a familiar figure swept into the room, his red and green robes swirling about his feet.  His periwinkle-blue eyes glittered as he saw the crumpled Snape sprawled across the desk, and his handsome face split in a cold grin.

"Hello, Severus," purred Gilderoy Lockhart, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  "May I be permitted to say that you look like Death himself this evening."  

He strode to the Potions master's side and threw a comradely arm across the other man's shoulders.  "Black _is _a ghastly color on you, old chap.  You should consider wearing saffron, or even a nice rust."

Snape recoiled from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's touch.

Lockhart clucked his tongue sadly.  "Come now, that's no way to treat someone who's only inquiring after your health."  He seated himself on the corner of Snape's desk.  "After all, you've been under the weather for…how long?"  He crossed his arms and looked intently at the Potions master.  "Oh, yes."  A malicious grin twitched his lips. "Since that little affair two weeks ago in your Potions class."

Snape brushed a trembling hand across his face.  In the low light of the office, Aeryn could see that his fingertips came away glistening with sweat.  With a shudder, the Potions master wrapped his arms around himself and leaned forward, his black hair falling before his face like a curtain.

Lockhart picked up a domed paperweight from the desk and tossed it between his hands.  "Even on your best day, you're hardly what I'd call handsome, but you look worlds better now than you did then. Your head was pretty well stove in…." With the smallest of shoves, Lockhart sent the paperweight skidding across the desktop.  When he spoke again, his voice was teasing.  "I'm quite surprised that Aeryn's affections didn't finish you off." 

Snape gurgled, and his fingers spasmed tightly around his arms.  Through the tapestry, Aeryn could see his entire body quiver.

"I will say, Sev old chap, it was truly brilliant of you to take Veritaserum after the little lioness was fished from the lake," Lockhart said calmly as the Potions master rocked back and forth in his chair. "Cast all suspicion away from you nicely—couldn't have done it better, myself."

Snape lifted his head.  A look of immense pain was etched across his features.  "I should have waited to take it," he croaked.

Lockhart nodded calmly.  "Yes, but then you'd be out of a job now, wouldn't you?"

"So would you," Snape muttered quietly, but Aeryn heard him clearly.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher threw back his head and laughed.  "You can't be serious," he exclaimed, getting to his feet.  "I've done nothing wrong."

Snape's breathing was labored.  "You gave me—"

"I gave you nothing but a sample of my world-class butterbeer," Lockhart corrected him sharply, and there were ice crystals in his voice.  His handsome face was devoid of its usual toothy grin, and that sight was terrifying in the flickering light of the dungeon.  "How was I to know you would react so violently to the spices?"

"I can prove it—"

Lockhart spread his arms wide, shaking his head disbelievingly.  "Your word against mine, Sev," he sneered.  With a rustle of his multicolored robes, he swooped to Snape's side like a diving hawk.  "Who's the Ministry going to believe?" he murmured in the Potions master's ear.  "A former Death Eater-cum-student molester, or an award-winning wizard and writer?"

The Potions master was panting now, and his thin cheeks had turned gray.  "Once I tell Dumbledore about this—"

"Oh, it won't matter, Sev," Lockhart purred.  He hooked Snape's chin with one manicured finger and turned the other man's face towards him.  "Not even if they pour Truth Serum down my throat.  As you've so aptly shown with your Veritaserum trick, the truth can be skewed in many different ways."  He chuckled.  "And, although I'm not the world's most powerful wizard, my books prove that I'm a master at skewing the truth to work for me."

Snape tore his face away from Lockhart's grasp.  "Dumbledore will give me another chance."  His voice sounded as if it had been dipped in acid.

Lockhart shrugged.  "Oh, I don't doubt that, you being a Head of House and all."  He stood, clasping his hand behind his back.  The flickering half-light of the office illuminated the features of the two professors, and Aeryn was idly struck by the picture they presented: the dark, brooding Potions master shuddering in his chair, the very image of a tortured, twisted denizen of the underworld; and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor standing like a sentinel over him, handsome as a guardian angel.

The guardian angel smiled, a gesture so cold that it could have graced the lips of Lucifer.  "I _do_ doubt," Lockhart murmured, "that Dumbledore will be so lenient on your pet Miss Blake once her dirty little secret's out."

Aeryn's breath stopped in her throat.

"He won't care that she's a mutant," choked Snape between clenched teeth. "Dumbledore's a bleeding heart for any poor soul—"

"Yes, the _headmaster _is," said Lockhart, "but what do you think the parents of the students will say?  The mutant scare isn't something the wizarding community takes lightly nowadays."

Snape half-rose from his chair, his face twisted in loathing and fury, but his limbs bucked beneath him and with a pained cry he tumbled back down, the breath hissing from his throat in short, agonized gasps.

"Once the owls start flying in and angry parents begin threatening to remove their children from Hogwarts, Dumbledore will have no choice but to throw your Aeryn into the street," Lockhart said, raising his voice slightly over Snape's whimpers.  "Straight into the waiting arms of the Ministry, who will be quite interested to see how she fits into Hogwarts' recent string of attacks."

Sweat was pouring down the Potion master's colorless cheeks.  "You wouldn't dare—"

"Just try me, Sev," Lockhart hissed.  A hard, satisfied look crossed his face.  "If I fall, I'm taking you and her with me."

A snarl twitched the pain-riddled face of the Potions master.  "Leave Miss Blake out of this," he choked.  He crackled open his streaming eyes and glared balefully at Lockhart.  "Haven't you done enough to her already?"

Lockhart grinned malevolently.  "Oh, no, Sev."  He bent down until his lips were almost touching the Potions master's ear.  _"You're _the one who's done her.  Enough.  Already."

Snape growled and lunged at him, but Lockhart danced back, laughing cruelly.  "I don't blame you for being attracted to her, Sev," he jeered.  "She's pretty enough—although you've probably never looked at her face, not with a body like hers."   He growled lasciviously and outlined an hourglass in the air with his hands.  "Those bouncing breasts…and those _hips_…._" _He groaned mockingly, putting a hand to his heart.

Snape did not speak, but the muscles in his jaw clenched visibly.

Lockhart sat down on the corner of Snape's desk, a sympathetic expression written across his handsome features.  "Tell me the truth, Sev.  You've secretly enjoyed these past few months, haven't you?"  He sighed and put a hand on the other man's shoulder.  "A young, curvy thing like her, so tempting and _so _utterly unable to reject your advances…." He chuckled throatily.  "Bet you're getting hard right now, just thinking about it—thrusting between those thighs, driving yourself deep into her…."

The Potions master moaned and buried his face in his hands.

"How about we make a deal, Sev?" Lockhart asked, picking at one manicured fingernail.  "You tell me I want to hear, and I might just give you the antidote."  He peered out of the corner of his eye at the other man, whose muscles were twitching as if he was being given electric shocks.  "Just tell me the truth.  Deep down inside, you enjoyed fucking her, didn't you?"

Snape slowly raised his head from his hands.  For a brief moment, his frighteningly brilliant gaze rested on the tapestry where Aeryn was hidden, and something akin to grief wafted across his tortured features.  "Yes," he whispered finally, closing his eyes.

Lockhart's periwinkle-blue eyes glittered.  "Very good," he cooed, turning around to face the Potions master.  "Enjoyed it a lot, did you?"

Snape blindly turned his face away.

Lockhart leaned over and tapped his shoulder.  "Answer me, Sev."

"Yes!" Snape spat brokenly, his muscles seizing up as pain twisted his features.  He gritted his teeth and buried his hands in his hair.  "Yes, goddamnit…every horrible…second."

Lockhart impassively watched the other man writhe.  "Hmm."  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor tapped a finger against his pursed lips.  "If you enjoyed it so much," he said slowly, "then you really can't want the antidote."  He got to his feet.

Snape's streaming eyes followed him.  "No—"

Lockhart reached into one voluminous sleeve and pulled out a small crystal bottle.  The half-light of the dungeon illuminated the clear liquid within as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor waved the bottle before Snape.  "You will, however, want this."

Snape glared at Lockhart with pure loathing.  "Get out of my office."

Lockhart uncorked the bottle and waved it under Snape's nostrils.  "Oh, come now.  Just a sip."

Snape pushed Lockhart's hand away.  "No," he snarled.

For a moment, the two men stared at each other, unmoving.  Then Lockhart's lip twitched, and he recorked the bottle.  "You can't ignore me forever, Sev," he said, putting the bottle back in his sleeve.  "Your withdrawal symptoms get worse every day…such a _pity_ you're unableto make the antidote yourself."  He sneered and spread his arms in a mock-helpless gesture.  "And you can't very well get anyone to make it for you, not unless you want them to find out what you've done."

"What _you've _done," Snape whispered.

Lockhart clucked his tongue disapprovingly and wagged a finger at him.  "I've merely been the provider, Sev."  He grinned evilly.  _"You're _the one that's done everything."  

Snape's fingers turned white as he pressed them against the top of his desk.  "Get…out…of…my…office."

"I'll be back in a few days, Sev," Lockhart said breezily, walking over to the door and pushing it open.  He paused on the threshold and turned back to look at Snape, a nasty glint in his eye.  "If you don't crack before then, that is."  He swept out of the door in a swirl of red and green, his mocking laugh echoing in the still air of the room as the heavy oak door slammed shut.

The room was silent save for the Potions master's labored breathing.

Aeryn banished the illusion covering the tapestry and slipped out from behind the disintegrating fabric.  Snape was leaning over his desk, his head in his hands.  He looked up as Aeryn rustled towards him, the pocketknife open in her hand and her face impassive.

"Miss Blake," he began.

With one, sharp move, Aeryn dropped the knife on the desk.  "Talk," she growled.

Snape's fingers were trembling as he folded them beneath his chin.  "Where do you want me to start?" he asked in a low, halting voice.

"Why don't you start by telling me what the hell's going on between you and Lockhart?" Aeryn snapped, slamming her palms on the top of the desk and leaning forward to glare into his feverish eyes.

Snape coughed weakly and blotted a sleeve across his wet forehead. "Have you ever heard of a poison called the Berserker's Mead?"  

Aeryn shook her head.  Snape leaned back in his chair.  "I'm not surprised—actually, very few people alive today have ever heard of it," he said.  "Do you understand, at least, the historical significance of the name?"

Aeryn shrugged, unable to see his point.  "Berserkers were ancient Norse warriors who went into a kill-or-be-killed rage whenever fighting, is that right?"  She vaguely remembered something about berserkers from her eighth-grade English class.

"Close enough."  He winced and put a hand to his chest, breathing heavily.  "The poison was named such because Elahim the Destroyer used to give it to his troops before battle, rendering them without sense of right and wrong."  He shuddered and paused in his speech.  Aeryn waited patiently as he drew several long, ragged breaths.

"It unlocks those aspects of our psyche that are the most basic, the most animal."  His coal-black gaze sought Aeryn's face, and the tiniest shade of grief was embedded in its depths.  "Like violence…and lust."

Aeryn's jaw tightened.

Snape looked away from her.  "The introductory phase of the poison is longer than most—one to two months until it truly begins to control your actions—but the longer you take it, the more it affects you."  He ran a hand through his sweat-streaked hair.  "Unlike most drugs, Berserker's Mead leaves the user in full control of his capabilities…and totally conscious of every decision he makes."  

He fell silent.  Aeryn drummed her fingers against the top of the desk, feeling the smoldering beginnings of rage welling in her throat.  "Go on," she muttered.

The Potions master's shoulders tensed as a spasm wracked his body.  His hands tightened around his arms, and he groaned slightly, rocking forward in his chair.  "Lockhart has been steadily feeding me…the poison…ever since the beginning of the school year," he gasped between clenched teeth. "I didn't realize it until…a week into November, after I had…." His voice cut off into a moan.

 Aeryn thought back to the first time she had seen the Potions master stumble to the front of his classroom, his face smeared with sweat and breathing like his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper.  "The day in Potions when you had to dismiss class because you were too ill?"

Snape nodded curtly, the muscles in his jaw working.  "I wasn't certain…what was wrong with me…until Lockhart came to my office later that day, very much in the same fashion as he did tonight."  The Potions master drew a deep, shuddering breath.  "He told me…that he'd been poisoning me—" Snape winced  "—and that he would continue supplying it to me for as long as I would continue to take it." 

The sight of him, standing tall and well at the Quidditch match flashed across Aeryn's mind's eye, and bile rose in her throat.  "And you continued taking it," she said sourly.

"You don't understand, Miss Blake," Snape said between clenched teeth.  "The poison…is also called the Berserker's Mead…for the effects that withdrawal has on your body." A wry smile twitched his tortured lips, and he chuckled bitterly.  "Before an antidote was discovered, users of Berserker's Mead had one of two options…continue taking the poison until their increasingly violent actions destroyed them…or kill themselves to end the pain that withdrawal caused."

_One of two options._  "But the antidote _has_ been discovered," Aeryn said harshly.  "And you _still _took it."

Snape swallowed, his brilliant eyes turning to her.  "It wasn't—"

"Even after you found out Lockhart had been poisoning you," Aeryn spat, "you _resumed _taking it!"  She leaned across the desk and grabbed the front of his robes, dragging him forward until his face was inches from hers.  

"And you—enjoyed it—" The beginnings of tears threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes.  "I heard you—you told him—every second, you _enjoyed _it…."

His eyes were tortured.  "I had…no choice—"

"And you _knew _that Dumbledore wouldn't care that I was a mutant," she whispered, her voice quavering.  "Yet you threatened me—forced me to _sleep _with you, and you were _bluffing—"_

"Miss Blake—"

"You bastard," she sobbed, pushing him away from her.  She turned away blindly and stumbled for the door, hot tears oozing down her cheeks.  Lockhart's snide voice echoed maddeningly in her ears…_deep down inside, you enjoyed fucking her, didn't you…_and Snape's whispered _yes_, without remorse, without _shame—_

"Miss Blake, I can't make the antidote!"

Aeryn stopped, her hand curled around the doorknob.  The scrape of the chair against the stone floor warned her that Snape was getting to his feet, and she strained a quivering breath through her teeth.  She would _not listen, there was nothing more he could explain…._

"I am…physically unable to make the antidote," said the Potions master.  He coughed weakly.  "It's almost like I'm a werewolf, trying to make Wolfsbane Potion for myself.  I can't do it. Earlier this week, I tried making it, but…the stench of the ingredients alone made me so ill, I…I couldn't continue…I had to stop…." 

"I heard him say that you can't make it," Aeryn said in a low voice that shook with tears.  "So buy it from somewhere.  Leave me alone."

"No one sells it, Miss Blake."  His footsteps echoed unevenly on the floor as he walked towards her.  "Not even in Knockturn Alley, and believe me, I _looked."_   His presence was warm at her back.  "I had no choice, I thought…that even if I continued to take Berserker's Mead, I had strong enough willpower, that I could fight it…."  

Aeryn tilted her head up, choking back hysterical sobs.  If he touched her…laid one finger on her…she wouldn't be able to handle it, she would lose control….

"I need you to help me." Snape's voice was low and pleading.  

The breath wheezed from Aeryn's throat in high-pitched gasps as tears dripped down her face onto her robe, burning her skin.  She pulled her hand away from the doorknob and wiped it furiously across her streaming eyes.  "Give me one good reason," she panted, "why I shouldn't go straight to Dumbledore and let him know about all this."

A hesitant hand fell on her shoulder.  "You heard what Lockhart said."

Aeryn tore herself away from his touch as if it was a red-hot poker.  "I don't care anymore!" She flung herself towards the door, weeping uncontrollably.  "Let me get kicked out of Hogwarts, it doesn't matter—"

His hands clamped upon her shoulders, reining her back.  Aeryn cried out and threw herself forward, but was unable to pull away, and it was suddenly too much.  She gave a despairing moan and crumpled to the floor, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders trembled with sobs. 

A faint rustle whispered in the air.  "Miss Blake."  Snape slowly knelt on the floor next to her.  "You don't understand—Lockhart is ruthless.  If he even suspects that you're trying to expose him, all of Hogwarts will know that you're a mutant within a matter of hours."

Aeryn shook her head wordlessly, her fingers wet with her tears. 

"And Dumbledore won't mind, that's true—but the uproar it will cause in the school, especially with the recent attacks—the Ministry will have you in Azkaban before you can blink."

His fingertip lightly grazed Aeryn's cheek, and with a hoarse cry, she recoiled from his touch.  Shuddering, she lifted her face from her hands.  The Potions master still knelt beside her, his coal-black eyes haunted in his slick face.

"Or—Lockhart will kill you," he said softly.

Aeryn swallowed hard.  With a loud sniff, she dragged her sleeve angrily across her eyes, wiping away the clotted tears and mucus from her face.  She sucked in several deep breaths, fighting to bring herself back under control.  This could not be happening to her.   Everything she thought she knew about her situation had calmly and quietly been turned topsy-turvy.   

"Help me, Miss Blake," Snape whispered.

She laughed slightly, a bitter sound, and pushed her fingers through her hair.   "Tell me why the Veritaserum didn't work."

Snape raised his eyebrows.  "I don't—"

Aeryn shook her head violently.  "You told Lockhart that you should have waited to take it," she whispered.  Her eyes met his. "Tell me why."

A bitter smile crept across the lips of the Potions master.  "You're very strong for a woman, Miss Blake," he whispered dryly.  "When you left me that afternoon, I was…" He paused and chuckled.  "Honestly, I don't remember much other than the pain.  I found the strength, somehow, to Summon a bottle of a very powerful Bone-Mending potion…."

He closed his eyes.  "The potion…is supposed to be diluted, one part to ten equal parts water, but…I drank it straight."  His fingers trailed across the narrow grooves in his cheek.  "My bones immediately started to mend, but I…I was in a heavily drugged state.  I dragged myself to my chambers and I cleaned myself up as best I could."  A cough wracked his body, and his eyes crinkled in pain.  "My mind…was in a fog, and everything seemed surreal…for some reason, I eventually thought to go back to the classroom, and…Dumbledore and your friends were waiting for me."

Aeryn glared wordlessly at him.

Snape's lips tightened.  "You had just been fished from the lake, and when Dumbledore asked me what had happened during class…" He put a hand to his forehead and laughed sadly.  "I wish I could say that my own _stellar _sense of morality had returned to me at that point in time, but the truth is, I…I was so _drugged_ that I barely understood what was going on."  He swallowed hard and gritted his teeth.  "Somehow I got it through my head that you were badly hurt, and I…I asked Dumbledore to let me take Veritaserum, because he already wanted to know what had happened during class, and I thought, maybe…it could help."

"That doesn't make sense," said Aeryn.

"It made sense to me at the time!" Snape growled, his coal-black eyes regaining a bit of their normal iciness.

"And so you and the rest of the Heads went into Dumbledore's office, where you took Veritaserum," Aeryn continued for him.  She lifted her chin.  "What happened?"  
  


Snape shrugged tersely.  "They asked me about my actions during class, and—everything was fuzzy, but I told them what I could remember—I said I had been disciplining Potter and that you attacked me.  I merely acted in self-defense."  He ran a hand across his face.  "And then I said that you had only acted like a hysterical female, and that I had no intention of punishing you, especially in the condition you were in."

Aeryn stared at him, shocked beyond belief.  "What?" she gasped finally.  A telltale buzzing was ringing on the very edge of her hearing.  _Impossible…unbelievable…_  "I thought—" it was suddenly very hard for her to speak— "I thought Veritaserum—you're only supposed to be able to tell the _truth!"_

Snape spread his hands helplessly in front of him.  "It was the truth, Miss Blake!" He leaned forward, his black eyes sparking desperately.  "That was what I believed to be the truth at the time…apparently the Berserker's Mead still had a hold on me…."

Aeryn made a noise in the back of her throat and put a hand to her face.  Quivers of hysteria were running up and down the muscles of her back.  She kept telling herself that this wasn't happening to her, that she would wake up and this would all be a horrible dream…but the drying tears on her cheeks and Snape's labored breathing echoing heavily in the still room belied her convictions.  After a long, quiet moment, she lifted her head and fixed her slate-blue eyes on his face.

_"Quid pro quo, _Miss Blake," the Potions master whispered.  "Help me, and I will help you."__

Aeryn's lip curled slightly.

"I can find a way to get to Lockhart and expose what he's done, but only if I can get my strength back."  The Potions master stretched a trembling hand out to her.  "Help me get through the withdrawal, and I swear, we will find a way to end this nightmare without sacrificing you to the Ministry."

Aeryn's eyes narrowed.  She sniffed and drew herself to her feet, keeping her face impassive as she stared down at the Potions master.  "And without sacrificing _you?" _she asked coldly.

Their gazes locked.  After a long, tense moment, Snape heaved himself to his feet, stumbling slightly in the process.  Aeryn watched him coolly, not moving a muscle to assist him.  Snape backed up a step and leaned against his desk, his chest heaving beneath his black robe.  

"Once I am certain that you are safe," he said slowly, "I will go to Dumbledore and tell him what has happened."  

Aeryn's chin lifted.  "Everything?"

The Potions master nodded.  "Everything."

Aeryn fell silent, watching him warily.  The Potions master stumbled around his desk, clutching at the wooden surface like an old man trying to walk without the aid of his cane.  With a small groan, he fell into his chair and leaned back, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.  His black robe was wet, sticking to his thin body.  Suddenly he spasmed in the chair, and he clutched his stomach, doubling over until his forehead hit the top of his desk.  Aeryn remained motionless by the door, her skin crawling as the Potions master's breath hissed from his throat like steam from a teapot.  Then Snape gave a strangled cry, and flopped back in his seat, his greasy hair matted against his sweat-streaked face.

For the very first time, a thread of pity worked its way through Aeryn's heart.

"Why is Lockhart doing this?" she asked softly.

Snape shut his eyes and gulped several large breaths.  "I don't know," he whispered.

Her fingers curled around the doorknob.  "I'm surprised he hasn't told the Headmaster what you've done."

A wheeze barked from Snape's chest, and it was a moment before Aeryn realized that he was laughing.  "That's hardly his style, Miss Blake," he chuckled, picking a limp strand of hair from his face.  "Read Marcus Aurelius: 'Of each particular thing, ask what is it in itself—what is its nature?'"  

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aeryn snapped.

Snape shook his head wearily.  "Lockhart's always been a lazy bastard," he said, letting his hand fall to his side.  "He'd much rather watch me destroy myself…less work for him…."

Aeryn looked at the Potions master for a long, hard moment.  His heavy breathing echoed in the still chamber.  Very slowly, she turned the doorknob, but did not open the door.  She wasn't sure if she believed him—if she _wanted _to believe him—but his sallow cheeks had gone gray, and as his jaw tightened in pain, she couldn't think of one reason to disbelieve what she had just heard.

Deep down inside, you enjoyed fucking her, didn't you? 

"What are the withdrawal symptoms like?" she heard herself asking in a quiet, detached voice.

He slowly wiped a trickle of sweat away from his face with the back of his hand.  For a moment, he struggled to breathe.  Then his hot gaze fell on Aeryn.  "At the very least, it's like…needles pulsing through my veins."  A shudder twisted his body, and his lips tightened.  "And then, at its worst…" His breaths became more labored.  "…My blood is on fire, and it is as if someone…is thrusting a sword into my stomach and _twisting_…._" _

He blindly brushed his fingertips before his eyes as if he were trying to clear them."By day, I can almost handle it, but at night…." His voice dropped.  "It's worst at night…."

_Yes…every horrible second…._

Aeryn's jaw clenched.

"Then I'll give you my answer in the morning," she said coldly, and stalked out of the office without looking back. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from a quote from the movie 'Dark City.'  (I have become the monster you were intended to be – Mr. Wall).  Snape's quote from Marcus Aurelius comes from one of my favorite movies, 'The Silence of the Lambs,' as quoted by Dr. Hannibal Lecter (played by the fabulous Anthony Hopkins)._


	25. Apocrypha

**Chapter 25: Apocrypha**

Aeryn climbed up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower with a heavy heart, so deep in thought that she put her foot halfway through the invisible stair before she hopped backward with a sharp curse.  "Fruitcake," she said as she reached the Fat Lady, who obligingly swung away from the portal.  Aeryn ducked her head quickly as she entered the common room and hurried towards the stairs to the dormitory, her hands clenching into fists at her side as she prayed fervently that they would not—

"Oof!"

She rammed suddenly into a thin figure in her path, and she hastily drew back.  A very startled and white-faced Harry Potter stood before her, holding up a hand to halt her progress.  Aeryn blindly turned her face away and pushed past him, but he grabbed her wrist.  

"Aeryn, wait—"

"Let me go," she muttered between clenched teeth, jerking her arm free from his grasp and dragging herself forward.  If she could make it to the entrance—

"What have you done to Professor Snape?" came a voice from a different direction.

The pale, quavering voice stopped Aeryn short.  She turned slowly.  Ron was seated at a table in the middle of the common room, his face pinched and his eyes wide as he stared at her.  Aeryn watched him swallow hard and rise to his feet, his shoulders set.  "What did you do to him?" he asked again.

Aeryn's eyes hardened.  With heavy, deliberate steps, she walked towards her red-haired friend, watching as he strove valiantly not to flinch as she stopped before him.  She drew the knife from her pocket, her eyes never leaving Ron's, and coldly tossed it across the table towards him.  Ron drew back from it like it was a poisonous snake, and that gesture bit more deeply into Aeryn's heart than she would have imagined.

"Don't worry," Aeryn said, her voice unnaturally calm.  "Your precious Potions master is unharmed."

Ron lifted his chin bravely.  "Why—why didn't you ever tell us that you were a m-m…." He stumbled over the word, as if the effort of speaking it was too loathsome for him.

Aeryn closed her eyes to keep her pain from showing.  "What difference would it have made?"

"You _lied _to us."

"I never gave you any reason to question my magical ability," Aeryn hissed, her hands clenching to fists at her side.  She did not want to continue this conversation.  With tightened lips, she whirled on her heel and started back for the dormitory entrance.

Ron called after her, his voice suddenly strong.  "Have you been the one causing the attacks?" 

Aeryn threw her head back and strained breath through her teeth that was achingly reminiscent of a sob.  "No," she spat and hurried up the stairs, the painful pressure of her unshed tears building behind her eyes.

_"Aeryn!"_

Half-blinded, Aeryn whirled around to see Harry close on her heels.  "What?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

The young boy awkwardly pushed his glasses up his nose.  For a moment, he looked at a loss for words.  He shoved a hand through his unruly hair.  "Why didn't you _tell _us?" he asked finally.  "I mean—Professor Snape—"

"What good would it have done?" Aeryn asked quietly.

Harry's eyes were very bright behind his black-rimmed glasses.  "But—"

"You would have gone straight to Dumbledore if I'd told you anything," she said, cutting him off sharply with a wave of her hand.  "And I couldn't let that happen, not if I valued my safety."

"But Snape—"

"But Snape _nothing, _Harry, don't you understand?"  She could feel the beginnings of a breakdown wavering at the edge of her sanity, and she shrugged her shoulders helplessly.  "Besides, whatever there was going on between us, it's over now."  Ignoring her friend's sudden sputter of protest, Aeryn hurried back up the rest of the stairs and into the dormitory.

She was able to shut the door and throw herself on her bed before an incapacitating wave of tears burst over her.

*          *          *

Aeryn slammed the pillow over her ears and screwed her eyes shut, as if those simple acts would block out the imagined moans of agony ringing in her head.  She gritted her teeth and forcefully decided that she would _sleep, now_, and lay very still.  For a moment, it seemed as if it would work, but after several breathless heartbeats she swore, sitting up and throwing the covers off.

She looked around the second-year dormitory, painfully empty now that Hermione was in the hospital wing.  Her lips tightened and she slapped a hand to her forehead.

She had _sworn _she would not do this.  She was tired, deserved a good night's sleep after the events of today, and she didn't _care _how much the Potions master was suffering right now, he deserved to suffer, the bastard, after all he'd done to her—

_By day, I can almost handle it_….

"No," Aeryn growled furiously, crossing her arms and flopping backwards onto her pillow.  She closed her eyes and tried to relax.  She _was _going to get some sleep; she was _not _going to let him win this one….

But, like a bystander unable to tear her eyes away from the fatal wreck before her, Aeryn's mind slipped through the passageways of Hogwarts down to the Slytherin chambers, towards the Potions master's bedroom….

A blinding surge of white-hot agony met her questing mind and Aeryn gave a muffled squeak, pulling herself from the serpentine passageways as if she had been burned.

…_but at night_…

No, she would not…not give in…no matter how much he was suffering…he deserved it…he _did, _even if he wasn't totally responsible for his actions….

…_it's worst at night_….__

Aeryn passed a hand wearily over her eyes.  With a frustrated sigh, she swung her feet onto the cold floor, feeling around on the stone for her slippers.  It was a simple thing to sneak from the nearly deserted Gryffindor Tower into the abandoned hallways.  Grumbling slightly to herself, Aeryn kept her eyes and her mind alert in case a stray ghost—namely, Peeves the Poltergeist, who seemed to be trying to make up for all the time she had lain in the infirmary, free from his malicious meddling—decided to pop up and surprise her.

She muttered the password at the entrance to the Slytherin chambers and slipped into the empty common room.  The large grandfather clock in the corner of the room suddenly rang the hour, startling her.  With only the whisper of her feet to reveal her presence, she swept down a hallway to the Potion master's chambers, pushing open the heavy oaken door without bothering to knock.

The ever-present fire in Snape's elaborately carved fireplace had burned down to guttering coals, and the candelabras and globes of light were flickering, as if the effort to stay lit was too difficult.  Aeryn blinked, straining to see in the half-lit room.

"Who is it?" rasped a shattered, unrecognizable voice from one of the couches.

Aeryn strained a breath between her teeth.  The Potions master's voice sounded as if it had been smashed with a hammer and then rubbed with eighty-grit sandpaper.  "It's me, as you damn well know."  Her voice was low and unnaturally even. 

"Ah.  Miss Blake."  Snape made a noise that sounded like the beginning of a chuckle, but was torn apart by a rusty, wracking cough.  "I did wonder…when I could expect the pleasure of your company…I must say, though…this is sooner than I expected."  His silhouette was a black splotch backlit by the smoldering remains of the fire.  "Have you come to give me your answer?"

Aeryn took a step towards the couch, slowly feeling out before her with her mind.  Even now, careful as she was not to quest into the Potions master's mind, she could feel the waves of pain wafting from him.  She hugged her arms around herself, shivering slightly.  The stone walls of Snape's chambers had leached the heat from the dying fire.  

"Turn on the lights," she said.

With eyes that were gradually adjusting to the blackness, Aeryn watched Snape raise a hand and weakly snap his fingers.  "If the answer is no, I sincerely hope you've brought your knife with you," the Potions master said as the candelabras feebly sputtered, then struggled until a frail glow lit the room.

Snape was lying on one of the brocade couches before the fire.  His black hair was slick and gleamed greasily as the light struck it.  His robe was soaked with sweat and clung to his thin body.  As she watched with slightly widened eyes, he winced, his colorless cheeks flushing a dark red.

"Do your best…to kill me quickly," the broken form muttered, his words catching in his throat.  "I'm not in the mood…for a long, messy affair."

"Just—just—" Aeryn blinked, and suddenly, she felt the smoldering beginnings of rage welling in her throat.  She swallowed hard and glared at him.  How _dare _he—even in his weakened state—order her around—

"Shut up and—and don't talk," she snarled, whirling on her heel and stalking into his bedroom.  Her heels bit into the thick green carpet as she marched to the bookshelf, trying her best to ignore his bed at the opposite end of the room.  Gathering her anger about herself like a comfortable blanket, Aeryn ran her fingers along the leather-bound spines, every so often tearing a book from the shelf and then tossing it to the floor after a cursory glance.

"Miss Blake?"  His voice was muffled by the distance.

She pulled out a thin, moldering volume.  Thick gold letters were flaking across the front: _Potare Apocrypha._

"What are you doing?"

She stomped back into the sitting room, holding the volume before her.  "Is this the book?"

He stared up at her bewilderedly, his eyes hazed with fever.  "What?"

"The book, the spellbook, the place where it says how to make this damned antidote!"  Aeryn thrust it violently beneath his nose, watching with grim satisfaction as he recoiled slightly.  "Is this it?"

The Potions master gazed, startled, at the cover of the book, then up at her.  After a long moment, he licked his chapped lips and cleared his throat.  "You're going—" he coughed— "to help me, then?"

Aeryn sighed and tossed the book onto an empty couch.  "I'm only doing it so I can get a good night's sleep," she said, flouncing over to the coffee table before the fire.  "Don't flatter yourself."  She knelt and swept the table clear with her arm, cursing her weak conscience the entire time.

_At least _I _have a conscience_….

She heard him struggle to sit up.  The winded sound of his breathing cut piercingly into her ears.  "The antidote—isn't in—any of my books," he gasped.  "But I—can tell you—how to make it—"

She had figured as much.  "Do you think I can do it?"

A sound like glass breaking issued from his throat.  "I certainly hope so."

So did she.  Aeryn shrugged, her expression harsh.  "Where are the ingredients?"

"Over there—in the other room."  Aeryn looked over her shoulder in time to see him fall off the couch.  With a grimace, he clawed his way to a standing position and grabbed hold of the couch arm to steady himself.  "I'll go get them." 

Aeryn stood up quickly.  "No, _I'll_ go get them.  _You—" _she pointed a finger at his hooked nose— "are going to sit there and coach me through the entire process."  She shoved him back down onto the couch and hurried off into the other room.

*          *          *

Two hours later, Aeryn wearily closed her eyes and massaged the crick in the back of her neck.  What little patience she had started with was now worn thinner than the rug she knelt upon.  She stirred the bubbling cauldron sitting on the coffee table, her third attempt at making the antidote.  It was easily the most difficult thing she had ever prepared.  If only she had the damned thing written out…but it was challenging enough for Snape to get the names and measurements of the ingredients out of his mouth.  After the first failed attempt, Aeryn had scribbled down a few of the trickier measurements on a scrap of paper.  Unless Snape helped her with the timing, though, her attempts at making the antidote were worthless.

She glanced over at the empty couch where Snape had been sitting a moment prior.  The Potions master was unable to stay in the presence of the antidote for more than five minutes at a time before he bolted to the bathroom, retching.  The first few times, Aeryn had secretly been pleased and slightly amused, but after he had run away _twice _before she added the last teaspoonful of nightshade and the potion spoiled because he wasn't there to tell her when to put in the henbane, she had been ready to plunk the cauldron on top of his greasy black hair and go back to Gryffindor Tower.

She took one last glance at the mixture and tiredly blew out the flame at the bottom of the cauldron.  This time around, she had made Snape stand next to her while she waited, her full spoon hovering above the cauldron, to add the final components.  He had barely been able to get the words "Now, Miss Blake," from between his teeth before he dashed from the room, but it had been enough.  The antidote had been completed—all that remained to be seen was if it worked.

She ladled a large dollop of the potion into a tumbler.  The steaming liquid looked like it was supposed to—the consistency of gravy and the color of congealed blood.  She sniffed it cautiously, then wrinkled her nose.  It smelled worse than the Polyjuice Potion had tasted.

"Is it finished?"

Aeryn turned.  Snape was leaning in the doorway of his bedroom, his face as colorless as egg whites as he wiped his mouth with a trembling hand.  He winced slightly and hobbled back to the couch.  His eyes glanced over the tumbler she held.  "Is it finished?" he repeated, sitting down on the cushions.

Aeryn held the warm glass out to him.  "Are you going to throw it all back up?"

He gave her a half-melted glare as he stretched out a hand to take the antidote.  His long fingers locked around hers as he grasped the glass, but Aeryn valiantly suppressed her shudder.

Snape held the tumbler before his eyes for a long moment.  Aeryn rocked back on her heels and watched him curiously as a visible struggle creased his features.  He cautiously raised the glass to his lips, then hesitated and pulled it away.  Aeryn was just about to ask him if he needed her to force it down his throat when the muscles of his shoulders bunched in resolve.  Determinedly, he pinched his nose and gulped the antidote down in four large swallows, his face crinkling like he was drinking boiling water.

The last swallow of antidote slipped down his throat, and Snape made a gagging noise, setting the tumbler down quite suddenly on the table and bringing his hands to his mouth.  He closed his eyes, and for a moment, Aeryn thought he was going to pass out.  Then, he exhaled slowly and let his body slump back against the cushions.  His hands fell to his sides and Aeryn watched as the tense lines in the Potions master's face smoothed in a mixture of relief and relaxation.

"Did it work?" she asked.

Snape drew a deep, slow breath.  "We'll find out." He coughed, but the sound rattled less in his throat than usual.  "The most powerful effects should start in about ten minutes."

"Ah."  Aeryn nodded knowingly.  "Like Tylenol."

Snape raised his head and looked questioningly at her.  

Aeryn sighed.  "Never mind."  She yawned, stretched, and got to her feet, wincing as her knotted muscles protested at the sudden movement.  Her eyes fell on the sweat-soaked face of the Potions master, and she shook her head in disgust.  "Well, while you're waiting for that antidote to work, go clean yourself up," she said, picking up an empty bottle.  "You look like hell."

Snape's eyes immediately narrowed at her order, but Aeryn very pointedly turned her back on him and began picking up the aftermath of her antidote preparation.  She did not look back over her shoulder until she heard the wet rustle of his robes as he crawled from the couch and tottered off to his bedroom.  Then, and only then, did a huge shudder wrack her body as Aeryn dropped her head into her hands.

Breathe…just breathe….

It took her a long time before she was able to lift her face again and stretch out a hand to finish clearing away the overturned and emptied ingredients.  As she wiped up a smear of toad's blood, she levitated the cooling cauldron and poured the remaining antidote into a row of waiting tumblers.  She filled five glasses with the gloppy mixture and covered them with squares of cheesecloth as she dropped the dirty utensils into the cauldron.  The glasses and remaining ingredients floated into the other room, where they settled on respective shelves.

_And all he has to do is drink the antidote, _Aeryn thought, chipping at a splotch of dried spider bile with her thumbnail.  Weariness hung from her shoulders like a lead cape.  _Just drink it, and he'll be fine, back to normal.  _Her thumbnail broke suddenly, and Aeryn put it to her mouth with a yelp, a painful lump forming in her throat.  _But I… _She curled her thumb into her palm, trying very hard not to cry.  She picked up a damp cloth and angrily swiped it across the tabletop.

The sound of footsteps caused her to look up.  Snape emerged from his bedroom dressed in simple black pants and a white shirt, rubbing his face with a towel.  He slipped the towel around his neck and ran a hand through his wet hair—a hand that did not tremble.  A natural sallow tinge had returned to the Potions master's cheeks, and he turned and looked at her with coal-black eyes that had not—quite—lost their unnatural luster, but had nonetheless regained their horribly piercing intensity….

The Potions master stopped in the middle of the room.  "Miss Blake?"  He stared at her, a very odd look on his face.

Pain was shooting up her arm.  Aeryn looked idly down and saw that her fingers had turned as white as the rag she gripped.  With more effort than she would have expected, she uncurled her hand and slowly rose to her feet. "You…you look well," she choked, hugging her arms around herself.

Snape, after a moment's hesitation, walked back to the couch.  "That was a very difficult potion you prepared, Miss Blake." He settled himself on the cushions and threaded his fingers together. "Well done."

Aeryn jerked her chin over her shoulder.  "There's five more doses in the other room."

Snape nodded.  "Good." He pinched the bridge of his nose with two long fingers.  "That will last me through tomorrow."

_"What?"_  Aeryn's eyes snapped open wide.  She couldn't have heard him correctly.  "How often do you have to take this?"

The Potion master shrugged.  "Every four hours."

Aeryn pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the hysterical giggle welling in her throat.  "Then I'm making a double batch tomorrow."

 "I wouldn't recommend that, Miss Blake."  Snape waved a hand and a glass of water appeared on the table next to him.  He lifted it to his lips and drained the liquid.  "The potion spoils after thirty hours."

Aeryn pressed her hands against her forehead.  "I have to make this _every day _for you?" she groaned.  "For how long?"

The Potions master set the glass back on the table.  "As long as it takes…two months, maybe three."

"Three months?" 

Snape had the good grace to remain silent.

"Fine."  Aeryn sighed and placed her hands on her hips.  She trained her eyes on the hollow of Snape's throat, not trusting herself to keep her composure if she looked at his face.  "Like I said…you look well.  Lockhart's going to know something's up the second he looks at you."  She swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat grow larger with every passing breath.  "You're going to have to pretend to take the Berserker's Mead so he's not suspicious when you're not stumbling around like a dying swan."

For some reason, those words were terribly difficult to get out of her mouth.

The ends of his hair were beginning to dry.  It was surprisingly soft-looking.

He nodded.  "That was my idea as well."

"Just don't really take it," Aeryn said softly.  His shirt was very white, and looked as if it was made out of linen. "Or I'll kill you."

A heavy silence dropped between them.

It was funny, Aeryn mused, that when a person usually said those words, they were punctuated with a wry grin, a wink, or a slight chuckle.  But she had no intention of making light of her threat.

Her muscles trembled with exhaustion.

Snape uncrossed his legs and started to stand.  "Miss Blake—"

"Good night, Professor Snape," she said suddenly.  Without another word, she marched across the room and hurried out of his chambers, hoping that he couldn't see the trembling of her jaw as she clenched her teeth together, trying to keep from crying. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/B:  _**_"Potare Apocrypha" – my attempt at Latin, meaning 'mythical potions.'_


	26. Ainos

Chapter 26: Ainos __

The door to the infirmary wing was closed.  Hesitantly, Aeryn pushed it open with one hand, trying to make as little noise as possible.  It was three days after Christmas, and she still had not seen Hermione since the incident with the Polyjuice Potion.  Although Aeryn had no desire to get into a confrontation with the young witch, she felt obligated by the friendship they had once shared to at least check and make sure Hermione was doing all right.

The infirmary was very quiet as Aeryn tiptoed inside.  It was already eight o'clock in the morning, but only the faintest beginnings of sunrise were staining the night shadows, and she seriously doubted that Hermione was awake—but, then again, she was hoping for that.  Aeryn snuck past the Petrified forms of Nick, Justin, and Colin until she reached Hermione's bed.  

Her friend's black-furred face was relaxed in sleep.  Trying not to breathe too loudly, Aeryn crept over to the bedside table and placed a small card next to a stack of schoolbooks.  She wordlessly started to back away, but Hermione stirred restlessly beneath her sheets, heaved a huge sigh, and cracked open her eyelids.

Aeryn froze.  Hermione's luminous eyes widened, and for a moment the two girls remained motionless, starting at each other.  

"Oh, Aeryn," the cat-girl whispered finally, beginning to sit up.

For a split second, Aeryn considered turning tail and fleeing out of the hospital wing, but her feet had mysteriously become glued to the floor.  With great effort, she settled a normal expression on her face.  "Hermione, I've missed you, I'm so glad that you're awake," she said, or intended to say, for mid-sentence the young witch flung her arms around Aeryn's waist and pulled her onto the bed.

"I'm so _sorry," _Hermione exclaimed in a voice half-choked with tears.

Whatever reception Aeryn had been expecting, it wasn't this.  Slightly stunned, she awkwardly put her arms around the other girl.  "I—"

Hermione buried her face in Aeryn's neck, ignoring the older girl's sudden flinch.  "Why didn't you _tell _us?"

"I—"

"Don't you _trust _us?"  Her fur was bristly against Aeryn's skin.  "Don't you trust _me?"_

It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe with Hermione's arms locked around her.  "You—you might have told Dumbledore—"

"Of _course_ I would have!" the young girl sobbed.  "You _shouldn't _have had to put up with it, you _shouldn't _have, it's _wrong_, it's not _right_—"

Aeryn very gently tried to loosen herself from Hermione's hands.  "Hermione, honey—"

A clatter of glassware interrupted her, and Aeryn looked up to see Madam Pomfrey enter the room, carrying a tray filled with medicine bottles.  She stopped short when she saw Aeryn clutching the weeping Hermione.

"Miss Blake—" The school nurse looked at Aeryn bewilderedly— "what's going on—"

"Nothing, Madam," Aeryn explained quickly.  "Hermione…uh…just had a nightmare."  She patted the young girl's head comfortingly.  "She was thrashing around, so I woke her up."

Madam Pomfrey set down the tray and walked over to Hermione's bed.  "I didn't hear you come in," she said, putting a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder.  "There, there, dear.  It was just a dream, that's all."

Aeryn could feel the sobs wracking Hermione's body grow softer as the young girl struggled to get hold of herself.  "I'm, um, going out this morning to get some stuff done, but I had something to give to Hermione before I left."  

Hermione gave a loud, shuddering sniff and released her hold on Aeryn long enough to wipe a hand across her streaming eyes.

"Oh, it's all right, dear," Madam Pomfrey cooed, plucking a handkerchief out of thin air and handing it to the young girl.  "I know, dreams can be so upsetting…do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione blew her nose with a loud honk.

"Maybe it'd be best if you got her to talk about it," the school nurse murmured confidingly to Aeryn as Hermione squared her thin shoulders, her furry face setting in a decisively determined expression.  "It _so _helps to talk through what's upsetting you when you're with friends, especially with dreams…I'll leave you two alone so I'm not intruding."  With a final touch on Hermione's back, Madam Pomfrey bustled from the room, picking up her tray as she left.

Aeryn clumsily pushed a strand of hair out of Hermione's eyes.  The young girl seemed to have her emotions under control, save for the occasional watery hiccup.  "Look, I'm sorry—"

"He's your _teacher!" _her friend whispered fiercely, knotting the bed sheets in her fists."He should know better, there are _rules _about that, doesn't he—"

"Hermione—"  

"Was that why you were always sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower at night?"  Hermione's luminous yellow eyes were like Chinese lanterns.

"Hush," Aeryn said quickly.  The overexcited tone of Hermione's voice was beginning to worry her.  "It's okay."

"I think I'm going to be sick," her friend murmured, and all of a sudden she looked terribly ill.  "Oh, God…."

Alarmed, Aeryn put her hands on Hermione's shoulders.  "Honey, it's okay—"

The cat-girl shook her friend's hands away and threw back her covers.  "I wanted to wait and talk to you, to make sure of what had happened," she said determinedly, feeling around on the floor for her slippers.  "Now that I know for certain what it was, I'm going to talk to Dumbledore.  Right now."

"No!"  The word exploded from Aeryn's throat, and she grabbed her friend's arm forcefully.  "Hermione, you can't tell him—"

Hermione's cat-eyes slitted unwaveringly.  "Aeryn, it's in the contract that every teacher has to sign.  Teachers are forbidden to have relationships with students—if they do, they're kicked out of the school, no exceptions." She carefully extricated her arm from Aeryn's grip and stood up.  "We can get him, Aeryn." 

Aeryn flung herself across the bed and swiped futilely as her friend danced out of reach.  "No, Hermione!"

"It's in Article 5.4 of the Contract for Teaching Positions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Hermione explained, shrugging into a dressing-robe.  She started for the door.  "Right there, in black and white, and—"

Aeryn stumbled to her feet and threw herself forward into the young girl's path, blocking her from moving forward.  "I _can't_ let Dumbledore know about it."

"But—" Hermione tried to duck around Aeryn.

"Hermione, _no!"  _Aeryn's hand flew out and locked around Hermione's wrist, reining the young girl back.  

"Ow!  Let me go!"

Aeryn tightened her grip.  "It's not a problem for the Headmaster to find out that I'm a mutant, it's if that knowledge somehow gets known to the general public," she said in a low, desperate voice as her friend tried to peel Aeryn's fingers away.  "I'll be out of Hogwarts instantly."

"They don't _have _to know that you're a mutant!" Hermione exclaimed, stamping her foot.  "That's not what we're discussing here, we're talking about how Snape—"

"That _is _what we're discussing!" Aeryn cried. "Hermione, Snape was blackmailing me _because _I'm a mutant!"

Hermione froze and stared at Aeryn for a long moment.  "Is that all that's holding you back?" she gasped finally.  "Aeryn, he _raped_ you!  You've got to get him for that, he can't be allowed to get away with it, no matter what people may think of you—"

She pulled herself forward, but Aeryn had no intention of letting her go.  "What about the attacks?" Aeryn asked, digging her heels into the floor with all her might.  "If I admit that I'm a mutant, that's as good as a confession to the Ministry."

"But—"

With tremendous effort, Aeryn threw herself backwards, dragging the young girl and herself onto the bed.  Hermione struggled to get back up, but Aeryn threw her arms around her desperately, pinning her down.  "If I rat on Snape, he'll make it known that I'm a mutant."

"That shouldn't make a difference," Hermione hissed.  "He shouldn't get away with it just because—"

_"*Hermione!*"_

The name, simultaneously vocalized and telepathized, stopped the young witch's struggles as if she had been hit over the head with a bat.  Aeryn drew a deep, slow breath, casting a worried eye towards Madam Pomfrey's door.

"Hermione, you're from the Muggle world."  Aeryn released the girl's arms and let her sit back up.  She swallowed as her friend rubbed the places where Aeryn had gripped her, watching her with wary eyes.  "You know how those people treat mutants, you have to, it's all over the news—and the wizards are getting to be just as bad as them."  Her voice became pleading.  "If they found out what I am, at this point in time…" She trailed off, but the remnants of her words hung in the air like crystal shards.

Hermione's furred brow furrowed.  A visible struggle crossed her features, and Aeryn could almost hear her warring thoughts.  She sat back against the pillows, watching her young friend with cautious eyes.  Had she, perhaps, thrown too much at her?  God above, the girl was only twelve…when Aeryn had been her age, she had barely known what the word _rape _meant, much less the subtle distinctions that defined it.

Hermione twisted her fingers in her lap.  "Why are they so intolerant?" she asked softly.  "They've also been shunned, they know how it feels…."

Aeryn sighed.  The same question had occupied the forefront of her mind ever since she was fifteen years old.  She rubbed a hand across her forehead wearily, trying to think of the right words to explain.  "It's human nature to fear or reject that which is different from the accepted norm," she began slowly. _ This much I know to be true._  "It holds true for regular _Homo sapiens _or wizards…I mean, look at the way werewolves are treated," she said, grasping onto a comparison that held true in the wizarding world.  "Sure, some people are tolerant of lycanthropes, but there are many others who would be just as happy if they were all locked in cages."

To her surprise, Hermione nodded sagely, an understanding light flickering in her lamp-yellow eyes.  "I understand," she said.

Whatever words Aeryn had been intending to say next—for how could this girl, barely twelve years old and a _true _witch, possibly understand what it was to be shunned because of your birth—dried in her throat as she saw a hardness at the corner of Hermione's eyes and a set to the young girl's lips that Aeryn had seen reflected back at her so many times in her own mirror.

_"You'll be next, Mudblood!"_

And suddenly, with startling clarity, Aeryn understood a sliver of the deep-seated force that motivated her intelligent friend—her intelligent _Muggle-born _friend.

When you cannot measure your lineage, you measure the worth of your accomplishments.

Once upon a time, Salazar Slytherin wished for only pureblooded families to learn the secrets of the wizarding arts….

Even though the Albus Dumbledores of this world outnumbered the Lucius Malfoys, prejudice, no matter whom it was from, always left bitter ashes in the mouth of the prejudged.

This much Aeryn had learned from looking into Ron's eyes, and this knowledge was reflected in the lamp-yellow eyes of her young friend.

A deep, knowing silence fell over the two girls.

"So you see," Aeryn said finally. Her words sounded strained and distant.  "I can't tell Dumbledore about any of this."

Hermione's yellow eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth as if to retort, but at that moment, there was a creaking footstep at the infirmary door.  A not-quite-smothered gasp caused both Aeryn and Hermione to turn and stare at the two figures hesitating in the doorway.

Aeryn had not spoken to the boys since Christmas.  With the use of her mutant powers, she was able to skillfully avoid unwanted contact with them.  At meals, she ate after they had left, and scuttled in and out of Gryffindor Tower before they arose or after they had gone to bed. 

Hermione's great yellow eyes darted from the boys to Aeryn, back and forth in an uncomfortable dance.

"Aeryn," Harry exclaimed in a voice that could have been cheerful, had it not sounded so forced.

Ron glanced to Hermione.  "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

Aeryn's heart knifed sideways.

"'Bye, Hermione," she said sharply, and quickly shouldered her way past Harry and Ron.

Hermione stretched out a hand.  "No, wait, Aeryn—"

But Aeryn had already fled.__

*          *          *

"Lockhart came to see me today," Snape called from his bedroom.

The hand holding the spoonful of monkshood hesitated only slightly before upending the ingredient into the bubbling cauldron.  "Really," Aeryn said carefully, poking the flecks of dried herb into the thick mixture.  She set the spoon down and squinted into the open doorway of the Potions master's bedroom.  Even though Snape diligently took the antidote every four hours, the fumes of preparation still caused him to turn green, so he had taken to escaping into his room whenever Aeryn brewed the antidote.  "Did he happen to notice your lack of withdrawal symptoms?"

"I dashed a pitcher of water over myself before he came in," Snape said nonchalantly.  His voice was thick.  "He didn't act as if he noticed anything different."

"Clever," Aeryn muttered.  She unscrewed the bottle of spider bile and dribbled a few drops into the cauldron.  "And did he give you more of the Berserker's Mead?"

"After a suitable period of taunting and watching me beg, yes."  The Potions master's words were slightly stilted, and Aeryn was immediately aware that he had plugged his nose with cotton.

The goopy mixture made a _brourp_, and Aeryn peeked down into the cauldron.  It was simmering nicely, and would need to wait a few more minutes before she started to add the nightshade.  "Great."  She got to her feet, idly brushing flecks of powdered asphodel off her sweater.  The muscles in her back complained at her movements, but she ignored them and walked to the open door of the bedroom.  Snape was sitting at his desk, his back to her as he flipped through the pages of _The Daily Prophet._

She leaned against the doorframe.  "Can I have it?"

The rustle as he turned the page of the newspaper was her only answer.  Aeryn paused, wondering if maybe he hadn't heard her.

"Professor?"

"Mmm."  He made no move to turn around.

After only a slight hesitation, Aeryn stepped into the room.  "Would you give me the Mead, please?" she repeated, walking to his side.  "I'd like to dispose of it myself."

Snape flipped a page, running a long finger down the length of a column.  "I do not have it," he murmured, his face never lifting from his reading.

"You don't have it?" Aeryn tilted her head to one side, wincing slightly as a loud popping noise accompanied the movement.  "What did you do with it?"

"I disposed of it," the Potions master said calmly.

 Something in the way he said those innocuous-sounding words made Aeryn pause and look at him sharply.  "What do you mean, disposed of it?"

For a moment, he was silent, his coal-black eyes ruminating over a picture of a startled witch who was in the act of dropping a basket of apples.  Then he shrugged his shoulders and rested his chin in his palm.  "Don't worry about it, Miss Blake."

The last time Aeryn had heard something akin to those words fall from his lips, she had ended up in a closet wearing his clothes.  Not surprisingly, an alarm bell began pealing warningly in her head.  "Why don't you just tell me what you did with it?" she asked, trying to keep her words light. 

A silent heartbeat passed.

"Professor?"  This time she was unable to keep an edge of panic from lacing her voice.

A frustrated sigh exploded from Snape's throat, and he slammed his palms on the top of his desk so loudly that Aeryn jumped.  The Potions master's head slowly swiveled around until his coal-black eyes rested on her.  "If you absolutely must know," he said in a quiet, calm voice, "I took it."

The room became as silent as a tomb.  Aeryn very nearly started to laugh, to shake her head, for he had to be joking, there was no way he was telling the truth…but he turned his head back to his newspaper, and Aeryn could feel the blood begin to drain from her face.  

She backed up a step.  "You…you can't be serious," she choked finally.

"Don't worry, Miss Blake," he repeated, resuming his reading.

There was a clatter as Aeryn backed up against the bookshelf.  All of a sudden, it was very difficult to breathe.  "You _took _it?"

Snape sighed again, but this time it was more of a condescending groan.  "I'm on the antidote, Miss Blake." He said it as if it was painfully obvious, the same way he would explain the seven different ways to prepare a Levitation Serum in Potions class.  "The Mead won't affect me."

Her heartbeat was rushing in her ears.  "How _dare _you!" 

"Miss Blake."  Snape turned his entire body in his chair until he faced her.  His sallow face was impassive.  "You're becoming hysterical."

The image of how he had looked the last time he was under the influence leapt into her mind's eye.  "You said you wouldn't," she growled, curling her hands into fists.

"This was the obvious choice of action," he said, enunciating each word with a sharp-tongued bitterness she had not heard from him in weeks.

 Aeryn's lip twitched in a snarl.  "You could have _told _him you would take it later!"  The muscles in her body began to tighten, readying herself to spring upon him if he even _twitched _in her direction.  "You're supposed to be—" her imagination flew about in her head liked a caged bird; she could see Lockhart holding a clear phial out to Snape— "we're trying to—" an imagined Snape raising the bottle to his lips— "I'm getting you _off _this stuff, and you go and screw around—"

The Potions master's eyes were cool and condescending.  "Lockhart handed me a goblet of wine with the Mead in it," he said, getting slowly to his feet.  "If I hadn't drunk it right away, he would have known something was afoot."  He spread his hands and shrugged nonchalantly.  "Now he thinks I'm under the influence again."

Of course.  It was so blindingly simple.  Aeryn was sure her heart was going to burst out of her chest, it was pounding so hard.  "You…you…."

"Oh, really, Miss Blake," Snape in a cold, unamused voice.  He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down his hooked nose at her.  A cruel glint entered his coal-black eyes. "You can be such a headache."

Aeryn's fist lightninged out and smashed into his jaw.  The tall wizard stumbled back against his desk with a muffled grunt, and Aeryn danced backwards, every muscle in her body instantly alert.  The Potions master put a hand to his mouth and pulled it away stained with red.  The eyes he turned to Aeryn were shocked, and then immediately darkened with a feral rage.  "You bitch," he snarled, and threw himself towards her.

Aeryn's hand flew up and Snape was instantaneously motionless as she _froze _him in his tracks.

She slowly lowered her hand, keeping a firm telekinetic grasp on him as she took a step backwards.  The expression on his sallow face was enough to stop the breath in her throat and she gulped once, gathering her rage about her like a shield.  "Listen to you," she said in a low voice.  "You even sound like you're back on the Mead."

His face contorted as he fought to free himself from the invisible hold binding his body.  "I don't have to put up with this."

She kept backing up until she stood in the doorway of his bedroom.  "You _are, _it's affecting you, you motherfucker—"

"Watch your mouth when you address me, young lady," Snape snapped.  But the words seemed to have a sobering effect on him, and the wild wrath burning behind his coal-black eyes flickered.  With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, his features relaxed, and he paused before speaking next, as if he was trying to control the emotions within him.  "I am a full professor and Head of House—"

Aeryn's eyes narrowed.  "Oh, I know what you are," she spat.  

A burble echoed behind her.  Aeryn quickly looked over her shoulder at the coffee table with the forgotten batch of antidote still bubbling in the cauldron.  With faltering footsteps, she walked over, and a quick peek into the cauldron informed her that the mixture had not yet spoiled. 

For a moment she hesitated, torn over what to do.  Reason eventually prevailed over her spite, and she dumped the final measurement of henbane into the cauldron, stirring it briefly to make sure it mixed.  Plastering a benign look on her face, Aeryn walked back to the doorway of Snape's bedroom.  The Potions master was still in the position where she had frozen him, but a look of exasperated desperation was starting to chip away at his features.  

"Good night, Professor," she said calmly, and turned to go.

"Miss Blake!"  His words stopped her, and she looked over her shoulder at him questioningly.  He coughed awkwardly.  "You can't leave me like this."

"Why not?"

Now the desperation was beginning to settle on his face.  Aeryn watched curiously as a bead of sweat formed at his browline and began a steady descent down the hawklike features that had gone suddenly pale.  __

He bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile.  "I think," he said, "it's about time for me to take another dose of the antidote."  

Aeryn crossed her arms.  "So?"

Another trickle of sweat joined the first.  A very forced chuckle escaped his lips.  "This is quite uncomfortable for me," the Potions master murmured.  "If you release me, I can take a dose of the antidote and we can discuss this matter like rational adults."

Aeryn glared flintily at him.  "No," she said in a clear voice, and took a step back.

"Miss Blake."  His voice was almost pleading.

Aeryn shrugged.  She wasn't feeling the least bit tired, and thanks to her spectacular control on her telekinetic powers, she could keep him in his uncomfortable position for a very long time.  

"I'll release you when I'm good and ready," she said languidly.  Ignoring the choked noise that came from his throat, Aeryn made her way out of his chambers, the faintest beginnings of a grin gracing her lips.

*          *          *

Professor Sprout poured a steaming cup of tea and handed it to Aeryn.  "I'm so glad you finally came up to see me," she said, pouring herself a cup and adding milk and sugar before she sat down in a squishy yellow armchair.  "I've been wondering how you are."

 "I've been pretty well," Aeryn lied, taking a cautious sip of tea.  The sitting room of the Herbology professor's chambers was cheery and colorful.  The air in the room was moist and warm, and a pleasing, earthy fragrance rose from the assorted pots of magical plants hanging from the ceiling and sprouting from the corners—altogether, a nice break from Snape's chilly dungeons. 

Aeryn suppressed a shudder at the thought of the Potions master.  Every evening, she dutifully made her way to his chambers and prepared a brew of the Berserker's Mead antidote for him.  Since the evening after he had taken the Mead—a feat he had not since repeated—she had barely spoken to him, which, to tell the truth, suited her just fine.  The very thought of carrying on a conversation with him made her physically ill. 

The squat little witch propped her feet up on an ottoman and nibbled delicately at a chocolate-chip cookie.  "And how are the rest of the Gryffindor Four doing?" she asked brightly. 

A sickly, forced smile spread across Aeryn's face.  "Just…ducky."  She leaned quickly forward and grabbed a cookie, trying to compose herself.  She had barely seen Harry, Ron, and Hermione since their chance meeting in the hospital wing over a week ago.  Their absence was a cold ache in Aeryn's heart, almost as if someone had cast the _menus geluso_ curse on her.  Now, with the winter holidays drawing to a close, Aeryn was at a loss over what to do. 

Professor Sprout was talking about something to do with the Mandrakes and several other new plant species she was thinking of introducing into her higher-level classes, and while Aeryn plastered an interested expression on her face, she was barely listening.  The Herbology professor was in the middle of explaining how she was going to redecorate Greenhouse Five once the school year was over when Aeryn's teacup suddenly slipped from her fingertips, sloshing hot tea across her jeans as it fell to the floor with a sickening shatter. 

Both Aeryn and Professor Sprout leapt out of their chairs.  The Herbology professor reached quickly for her wand to clean up the mess, but Aeryn was already on her knees, gathering the splinters of the ruined teacup.  "I'm sorry," she exclaimed automatically, raking the shards of bone china from the leaf-green carpet. 

Professor Sprout was at her side.  "Dear, it's all right—" 

"I'm sorry," Aeryn repeated.  There were so many little pieces everywhere, as if the teacup had exploded like a tiny bomb.  Her fingers flew over the carpet, picking and gathering. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

 A hand dropped on Aeryn's arm, stalling her movements.  "Miss Blake." 

Aeryn looked down at the hand on her arm.  The Herbology professor's hand was small and square, with dirt-ingraned nails that looked as if they would never come clean, not even with weeks of scrubbing.  Professor Sprout took Aeryn's hands in hers, and Aeryn watched idly as the Herbology Professor uncurled her fingers to reveal blooded palms where the glass had embedded

It was funny, Aeryn thought detachedly as Professor Sprout gave an exclamation and started picking shards of the teacup from her skin, that she couldn't feel any pain.  

The Herbology professor's fingers were gentle as she extricated the sharp pieces from her palm.  One afternoon after Quidditch practice, Harry had come to Hagrid's cabin with a huge splinter in his palm.  Aeryn had very patiently dug it out while the other two hovered around them, Ron making snide remarks while Hermione looked up the different ways to disinfect the wound. 

Aeryn winced. 

Professor Sprout froze at Aeryn's sudden motion.  "Does this hurt, dear?"

The words came before she could stop them.  "My friends are angry with me," Aeryn said quietly. 

Professor Sprout's fingers wavered only a moment before delicately extricating a dagger of china from her palm.  She carefully helped Aeryn to her feet.  "Come over here with me, dear."  The Herbology professor steered Aeryn to the window and pulled over the two chairs she normally reserved for wizard chess games. Neither of them spoke a word as Professor Sprout picked up her cherrywood wand and began closing the cuts on Aeryn's hands. 

"Now."  Professor Sprout kept her eyes on Aeryn's wounds, but Aeryn knew she was listening attentively.  "What's the matter?" 

Aeryn chewed on her lower lip.  "I..." _Just breathe_.  "I...didn't tell my friends...something."  She shrugged, trying to ignore the tightness gathering at the corners of her eyes.  "Now they're not speaking to me." 

Perhaps it was because she could feel the rigidity in Aeryn's hands, but Professor Sprout did not ask what the _something_ was.  "Why didn't you tell them?" she asked, closing a laceration on Aeryn's finger.

"I didn't..." Aeryn shook her head, trying to find a way to say it without being too specific.  She could still see the look of unadulterated horror on Ron's face.  "I thought that me telling them would hurt them," she said finally.  "And I didn't want to do that." 

Aeryn's left hand, though still bloody, was now unmarred.  Professor Sprout picked up the girl's other hand and tapped her wand against the cuts.  "But, apparently, _not_ telling them about it has done just as much damage, if they aren't talking to you." 

"Yeah."  Aeryn was surprised that this wasn't hurting more than it did.  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Sprout closed a particularly deep scratch.  "And they don't understand that I was trying to protect them."  She drew a deep breath and, to her surprise, found that it caught in her throat.  In the chambers of her mind, she suddenly heard cheerful laughter, and saw the smiling faces of her friends on Christmas morning, and she swallowed hard.  "And now..." A maddening quaver had eaten its way into her words.  She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.  "I…I don't know what to do." 

Aeryn's hands were both healed.  Professor Sprout slowly sat up and slipped her wand into her sleeve.  Aeryn kept her eyes trained on her bloody hands.  At least, she told herself, they wouldn't scar. 

"Well, dear.…" 

Aeryn glanced up quickly.  The squat little professor sighed and ran a hand across her eyes.  Without her patched hat on her flyaway hair, the Herbology professor looked more like a typical English housewife than an accomplished magic-user, and Aeryn wondered, not for the first time, what the professor's life had been like before she came to Hogwarts.  Professor Sprout folded her hands together.  "If I were you, I'd go talk to them," she said gently. 

Aeryn shook her head.  "But they don't want to talk to me."  _Why didn't you ever tell us that you're a m-m_…she heard Ron struggle to say, and she choked back a whimper.  She furiously brought up a hand to push her hair away from her face, but stopped short as she saw the drying blood on them. 

"Dear.…" The professor leaned forward and clasped Aeryn's hand in hers.  After a hesitant second, Aeryn looked up into her face.  The Herbology professor's brown eyes were calm and gentle.  "You forget. They're only children."  She chuckled slightly.  "Truth be told, I've always wondered why you spend so much of your time with students that are eight years younger than you." 

Aeryn smiled sadly. 

"But I know how much they mean to you, and you to them."  Professor Sprout reached out and gently placed her hand on Aeryn's cheek. "They're just as confused as you about this, and don't know how to approach you."

Aeryn had to blink hard to keep her vision clear.  "But…." 

"Dear, one of the delicate idiosyncrasies of friendships is how easily we can hurt those that are most important to us."  Professor Sprout's hand was smooth and warm against Aeryn's skin.  "If you want to mend what's been damaged, you must bring your feelings out in the open, otherwise it won't get resolved."

The professor's open, honest words were so filled with concern that Aeryn almost broke down and told her everything.  But the lump in her throat was too large for her to do anything but whisper, "I thought I was protecting them." 

Professor Sprout smiled, a smile that was sympathetic and understanding and sad all at once. "Then if they're truly your friends," she said quietly, "they will forgive you." 

_"We're behind you all the way, Aeryn!" Ron had exclaimed as he left the infirmary wing_….__

_"He adores yeh…he'd bend over backwards teh help yeh, yeh know he would_…."

_The picture of her parents waving at her merrily, and her friends grinning as bright as the sun_….

It had been so very long since Aeryn could truly call someone a friend, and feel that emotion called love that she had thought she would never feel again.  And Hermione, at least, still cared about her. 

It was that image of her friend's lamp-yellow eyes, filled with tears of concern for _her_, that steeled Aeryn's resolve. 

By God, she wasn't going to let them go without a fight. 

"Okay," Aeryn said, but the word came out broken, and she could feel her eyes brimming as she smiled hesitantly at the Herbology professor.  "Okay. I'll do it." 

"Oh, Miss Blake," Professor Sprout said, and suddenly Aeryn was enfolded in the teacher's arms, and was being held, held like she had been when her mother was still alive and Aeryn had woken in the middle of the night from a nightmare.  The Herbology professor's robe smelled like leaves and wildflowers, and the tense muscles of Aeryn's body began to relax, and the heavy lump in her throat began, slowly, to dissolve. 

"Thank you," Aeryn whispered into Professor Sprout's shoulder. 

"Try to be understanding with them as well," Professor Sprout murmured, gently stroking Aeryn's hair.  "After all, they're only human." 

_And not mutant._   But the professor's helpful words and sympathetic ear had brought back a stubbornness and a desire for the fight that Aeryn had thought was long dead. 

Sometimes having to fight for something makes it all the more precious. 

After a long moment, Professor Sprout and Aeryn pulled away and smiled at each other.  The Herbology professor looked down at Aeryn's blood-streaked hands and tapped them scoldingly.  "You should go wash your hands," she said, getting to her feet and pulling her wand back out of her sleeve.  She motioned to a small door on the opposite end of the room.  "The WC's in there, through the bedroom. Go clean yourself up, and I'll clean up here." 

*          *          *__

Straining a breath between her teeth and hardening her eyes, Aeryn pushed open the infirmary door and barged into the hospital wing.   Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up, their busy conversation ceasing as quickly as if it had been smothered with a blanket. 

Aeryn stalked over to them, her feet clicking sharply against the stone floor.  "I'm tired of this," she said harshly, her eyes darting to each of her friends in turn.  Had the situation not been so grave, she would have laughed at the sight of their faces: Hermione's cat face with round, yellow eyes; Ron's face draining pale until his freckles stood out like flecks of mud; Harry's mouth hanging open in a small 'o.' 

"I'm tired of…avoiding you, tired of feeling ashamed, and…" She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders.  "You guys are my friends, so I'm going to explain myself to you.  All of it."  She spread her arms wide.  "Whatever you want to know."

No one breathed for a moment; then, Harry and Hermione glanced nervously at each other.  A queer pain lanced through Aeryn's chest, and—for a moment—she was afraid that perhaps she had been too forward, that perhaps she had hoped for too much, that there was no chance for redemption— 

Harry cleared his throat, and Aeryn quickly looked at him.  His green eyes rested brilliantly on Aeryn's face.  "Hermione's already explained why you didn't tell us about…" He coughed awkwardly and looked away, running a hand through his unruly black hair.  "…Professor Snape," he said finally, a faint hint of color burning his cheeks.

Aeryn jerked her head in a nod. "Good."  With slow, deliberate movements, her flinty gaze scorched across the room to rest on Ron's pallid face.  "Because I don't think that's the major problem."

Ron did not speak, but his lips went white.

"No.  It's not."  Aeryn looked back at Harry, and was shocked to see the sudden set of his jaw, and the steeliness in his bottle-green eyes.  The young wizard glared at her and crossed his arms in a very Snape-like gesture.  "You didn't tell us what you are."

_What you are.  _Aeryn lifted her chin and returned Harry's stare, not wanting to let him see how deeply those words cut into her heart.  "I didn't tell you," she began, "because I knew it would matter to you—"

"It doesn't," Harry muttered.

Hermione and Ron turned and stared at him in surprise, and Aeryn suddenly realized that the hardness in her friend's eyes was not born of hate, but of _pain.  _

"It doesn't matter to me," Harry said, "if you're a witch, a mutant, or a…or a _troll, _as long as you're honest with me!"  His green eyes were very bright behind his black glasses.  "Didn't you trust me enough to tell me the truth?"

He looked searchingly into her face, and Aeryn's memory flashed suddenly back to the that fateful day in her flat when all of this insanity had started, when he had found her levitating the television stand and his face had glowed with such wonderment, with such understanding, with such _happiness_….

Her throat had gone dry, and she had to sit down quite suddenly.  A hundred different explanations flashed into her head to defend her actions: that she was trying to protect him; that if she had told him what she was in the first place, she wouldn't be here at Hogwarts; that it shouldn't matter, after all, _he _didn't tell her about being the savior of wizardkind; the list went on and on.  But all she wanted to do was sob as she looked into his puzzled, perturbed face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally.  "Harry, I'm sorry, I thought…."  

_But you didn't think, _she realized suddenly as the expression on her friend's face did not flicker.  _Because you didn't know any better you _assumed _they would shun you, which turned out to be the biggest mistake of your life.  _

All her excuses and justifications seemed very silly and childish now.

"I thought you'd tell Dumbledore," she continued clumsily, because she did not know what else to say.

Harry stared at her for a very long moment until she thought for sure that she had lost him and he would never speak to her again.  Then the young boy sighed.  "And why on earth would we tell Dumbledore?" he asked, his voice weary.

Aeryn blinked.  "Well…" She hadn't expected this.  "I guess…because…I was afraid."   

"Why?" Harry asked.

Aeryn shrugged.  "People don't…take too kindly to mutants."  _The understatement of the century.  _"Especially not now, with…everything that's going on."

Hermione and Harry glanced at other—being very careful, Aeryn noticed, not to look at Ron.

There was a long, awkward pause.

"And," Aeryn muttered, if only to break the stifling silence, "I really can't do magic, either."

This time, Harry and Hermione shared a glance that was overly patient.  "I think," Hermione said slowly, "if you can fool Dumbledore into thinking that you belong here at Hogwarts, then who are we to say that you can't do magic?"  Her lamp-yellow eyes blinked, and she shrugged.  "I mean, seriously.  Maybe your mutation is just the newest evolution in wizardry."

"Besides," said Harry, and the smallest of grins twitched his lips.  "We don't rat our friends' secrets—not unless they tell us to."

It was a good thing she was sitting down, Aeryn thought quickly, because she was now utterly floored.  She felt very clumsy and stupid indeed as Harry heaved a huge sigh and sat down on Hermione's bed.  

"By the way," Harry said, the hard look in his green eyes beginning to dissolve, "what exactly is your mutation?"

Aeryn had to shake her head slightly to clear it.  "Um…" For the first time in a long while, she was able to get a good, clear look at her friends and saw, not the trepidation she would have expected, but…curiosity.  

"I have several mutations, actually," she began, sitting forward in her chair.  "I can…um…well, for starters, I can cast illusions—which is why I do so well in Transfigurations."  She glanced at Harry and Hermione, who had settled back into the pillows and were regarding her inquiringly.  "And then I'm telekinetic—you know, I can move things around with my mind."

_"Wingardium leviosa," _Harry exclaimed, nodding his head knowingly.

"Uh, yeah."  _He would know, of course…that was the first 'spell' he ever saw me cast.  _"And then…" Aeryn bit her lip.  She carefully averted her eyes from Hermione's intrigued face and instead regarded one of her fingernails, which was slightly ragged at one corner.  "Um…I'm also…" Aeryn's muscles bunched.  "…telepathic."

"I knew it!" 

The words squeaked from Ron's throat, tense and high-pitched.  Harry, Aeryn, and Hermione turned to look at him.  He was sitting in a chair next to Hermione's bed—or, more exactly, he was crawling backwards in the seat of a chair next to Hermione's bed.  His eyes were enormously wide, and his knuckles were pale as he clenched the arms of his chair.

"You're one of those," the red-haired boy gasped.  

Aeryn got quickly to her feet.  "Ron—"

"My dad's told me all about them—says You-Know-Who used to use them to attack normal wizards—" Ron had curled up into a little ball on the cushion of his chair, bringing his knees up to his chest like a shield— "they fry your brain to a crisp and you can't do anything about it—"

_Normal wizards.  _Aeryn's stomach lurched at the sight of the boy cringing backwards from her.

Hermione's lamp-yellow eyes glittered harshly, and her furred face became rigid.  "Shut up, Ron," she snapped, sitting up straight in her bed.  "This is _Aeryn_ you're talking about.  She's not going to fry your brain."

"How do you know?" Ron whispered.

Suddenly, Aeryn felt very sick.

"Oh, stop it!" Harry cried, taking a step towards the boy.  "Come on, Ron, she's our _friend!_  Stop treating her like she's Voldemort!"

Ron blanched at the mention of the Unspoken One, and even Hermione looked slightly shocked.  But the red-haired boy would not budge from his position, not even when Harry threw his arms up in disgust and turned his back on him.  Aeryn chewed on her lip.  She had known that he would be the hardest to win back, but she hadn't expected it would be this difficult.

She took a step towards him, ignoring his sudden flinch.  "Ron.  Please."  As much as it pained her to see him quail at her approach, Aeryn slowly held out a hand to him.  "I've never…I would never use my powers in that way…."

Ron whimpered slightly, his eyes as wide as dinner plates, but Aeryn refused to back away.  

"I don't want our friendship to end because of this," she murmured.

Ron's huge eyes stared at her outstretched hand, and his lips worked soundlessly as his fingers clenched against the arms of his chair.  Aeryn stood still, watching him with bated breath.  A struggle of several different emotions crossed his face; from anger to fear, from curiosity to suspicion, and still Aeryn waited, her hand before her as a peace offering.  For one brief second, the young boy's face cleared, and Aeryn's heart leapt as he leaned forward slightly.  

But the moment passed all too quickly, and a cloud rose again to shroud his features.  A tortured frown twisted his face and his eyes slipped away from her.  With a muffled noise in the back of his throat, Ron leapt from his chair and raced from the infirmary wing.  The sharp click of his heels echoed furiously down the stone hallway and rang mockingly in Aeryn's ears.

After a wrenching heartbeat, Aeryn dropped her hand.  

Hermione and Harry shared a glance before they leapt up and ran to her side.  "Don't worry, Aeryn," the young girl exclaimed, putting a hand on her arm.  Her lamp-yellow eyes were filled with concern.  "He'll come around."

Even she did not sound convinced.

"Sure," Harry said with forced cheerfulness.  He grinned at Aeryn.  "Just…give him time to get used to the idea."

Half of Aeryn's heart wanted her to run down the hallway after Ron and make him come back, to explain everything to him—maybe thrash some sense into him—but she forced herself to look at her two friends and smile, no matter how small the gesture was.  She knew she would never get Ron back if she rode roughshod over him.

"Just give him time," she repeated quietly.  This time a genuine smile creased her face, and Aeryn held out her arms to Harry and Hermione.  The two students' faces lit up and they stepped forward into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"God, I've missed you guys," she laughed, feeling a bit of the old warmth seep back into her soul.

Harry stepped back, and his expression was so relaxed that Aeryn almost expected him to challenge her to a game of Exploding Snap, or mercilessly tease her about Oliver Wood's undying affections.  But instead, his scarred brow creased and a frown twitched his lips. "But," he began, "I still want to tell Dumbledore about Snape—"

"Harry," Aeryn exclaimed, holding up a hand quickly.  She took a step away from them, chewing on her lower lip as her eyes flickered from Hermione to Harry.  Now that she had once more regained their trust, Aeryn found herself with a moral dilemma.  She could tell them the truth—that Lockhart was behind the entire nightmare, and that she and Snape were working together to expose him—but would they understand what she was trying to do?  She remembered Hermione's disgusted face when the young girl had offered to go to Dumbledore to end the problem.  

"No," Aeryn said finally, deciding not to tell them.  _After all, _she told herself quickly, _the less they know about this, the better.  Even I don't understand half of what's going on, and I don't think I could explain it sufficiently to keep them from running to the Headmaster._

Harry's face crumpled in concern.  "But—"

"No, really, it's all taken care of."  Aeryn shrugged, trying to sound convincing.  "It's not a problem anymore—honestly, I would tell you if it was."

Hermione regarded her friend seriously.  "Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully, her cat-ears twitching slightly.  She wrinkled her nose.  "Because you didn't tell us before—"

"Positive," Aeryn said firmly.  _The less they know, the better.  _"Please," she exclaimed quietly, putting a hand on each of her friends' shoulders.  "Trust me."

The cat-girl and Harry looked at each other, then back at Aeryn.  Aeryn held her breath, watching as her two friends methodically thought over what she had said.

"All right," Harry said slowly, in a voice that was accepting but far from pleased.  "But if anything happens with him—anything at all—" 

"—we're going to Dumbledore, no matter what," Hermione finished.

Aeryn's slate-blue eyes regarded her friends calmly.  

God, it was good to have them back.  

"Okay," she said firmly.  "It's a deal."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_"Ainos" is the Greek word for 'tale.'_


	27. Absolution

Chapter 27: Absolution__

At last the winter holidays ended, and with them the silence that had lain deep as the snow on the grounds.  The students, flush from the warmth of Christmas and the safety of home and family, swooped upon Hogwarts buzzing with excitement for the new term.  There was a flurry of rumor about Hermione's disappearance, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked.  So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey placed curtains around Hermione's bed.

Aeryn was not spared so easily.  Since she had not been released from the hospital wing until the last day of the previous term, many of the students had not seen her.  Whispers left a hissing wake as she passed anyone from Slytherin, and curious glances filled the Gryffindor common room.  Aeryn, however, shrugged the rumors away like annoying bees, focusing her mind on more important things—for example, Potions class.

The tension in the air was palpable as Aeryn marched into the Potions dungeon, her head held high and her jaw set.  Every eye in the place was instantly fixed on her, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike.  Even Draco Malfoy fell silent and regarded her with solemn eyes as she marched across the room to her seat. 

She could feel Snape's hot gaze drilling into her, and the collective pressure of the students as they waited breathlessly for the inevitable confrontation.

But there was no confrontation.  As the bell rang, Snape calmly began pacing up and down the rows of desks, his voice level as he lectured about the restorative properties of feverfew and hedgehog quills.  The students took down notes in awkward scribbles, and lingered half-hopefully by the door when the bell rang again, signaling the end of class.  Their half-hopes were not to be granted, for Aeryn stalked past the Potions master without even a glance.  

Eventually, as the weeks stretched on, the class settled into normality.

*          *          *

Aeryn hesitantly tapped the red-haired boy's shoulder.  "Ron?"

Ron slowly set down his book and turned in his seat to look at her.  Aeryn tried to keep her face normal so he couldn't tell that her heart was pounding in her chest like a bass drum.  His pale face was stoic beneath his freckles, but even though she couldn't read his emotions, Aeryn knew that even he wouldn't make a scene in the middle of the crowded Gryffindor common room.  After a long, tense moment, she eased herself into a chair next to him, hoping that the beads of sweat forming on her brow weren't too obvious.

"How's it going?" she asked after a moment.

Ron looked away from her and down at his closed book.  "Fine."  His voice was dull and flat.

Aeryn unconsciously clasped and unclasped her hands before her on the desk, idly playing with her fingers and wincing slightly with the occasional _pop of her knuckles.  "Good."  She had barely spoken with the boy since the confrontation in the hospital wing before the end of the holiday.  He, Harry, and Aeryn still went everywhere together—a semblance of normality was necessary, especially in the tight-knit community of Gryffindor House—but neither he nor Aeryn carried on conversation or glanced at each other.  Aeryn could very well imagine how hard it must be for Harry, or for Hermione when they visited her nightly in the hospital wing._

She cleared her throat nervously.  "Um…" She motioned to the book. "What are you reading?"

"Book about the Chudley Cannons," Ron grunted, his eyes flitting about the dark wood of the table.

"Oh, Quidditch."  Aeryn nodded.  The book was bound in orange leather, and she could see a picture of figures zipping about on brooms tossing the Quaffle to each other, and every once in a while, a player falling off his broom.  "I don't know any of the teams yet.  Are the…Cannons good?"

Ron shrugged.

The air between them was redolent with tension.  After an awkward, silent moment, Aeryn leaned across the table and placed her hand next to Ron's. "Look, Ron," she began, keeping her voice low so the other students at nearby tables wouldn't overhear, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you before about—"

Ron's chair jerked backwards with a clatter, cutting off Aeryn's words as cleanly as a knife blade.  She bit her lip as he scooped his book into his arms and silently cursed herself.  If only she could….

The red-haired boy paused at Aeryn's shoulder.  There was a flicker of orange in the candelabra light, and a heavy weight dropped into her lap.

"You can read it if you like," Ron muttered, and quickly disappeared before Aeryn could gather her wits to speak.

Aeryn's cold fingers gently caressed the orange binding of the book, and a faint smile twitched her lips as she got to her feet.  

It was, at least, a beginning.

*          *          *

The labyrinthine hallways of the Hogwarts underground were uncommonly deserted, even for a school night, but Aeryn kept her mind alert as she wove her way from the Slytherin dungeon.  It would not do to encounter a stray student or wandering ghost, not at this hour of the night, and certainly not so near the Slytherins.  If she were somewhere on the main hallway she could possibly explain—a sudden scurry caught Aeryn's attention and she shrank back against the wall, but it was only a mouse looking for scraps in the hallways.

It was nearly the end of January, and the weeks had seemed interminable to Aeryn.  With the students back at Hogwarts, it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to slip from Gryffindor Tower into the Slytherin dungeon without being noticed.  After a two-week headache from trying to remain invisible, Aeryn decided to make Snape's antidote at any opportunity when she could be unnoticed.  She was very late to several classes for a few days before she was able to eke out a routine.  Mealtimes were always a useful opportunity, as well as nights when huge events were scheduled.  This particular day, Aeryn had not found a break to prepare the antidote until very late in the evening when the common rooms were deserted.  She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.  

She turned a corner and collided sharply with a brilliant fuchsia robe.

The figure turned and flashed a brilliant toothy grin at her.  "Miss Blake!" exclaimed Gilderoy Lockhart, his forget-me-not-blue eyes twinkling.   "Good heavens, look at the hour—shouldn't you be back in your dorm?" With a sharp _tsk, _he wagged a mock-stern finger at her.  "Naughty girl—sneaking out after hours!  But don't worry, my dear, I won't take any points away from your House."  He winked in a comradely fashion.

Aeryn took a quick step back, hoping that the look on her face was suitably benign.  "Um—" She forced a grin onto her face and shrugged.  Ever since she had discovered the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's role in Snape's illness, she had not spoken with the handsome man one-on-one.  Aeryn could feel her heart pounding frantically inside her ribcage, but she could not let it show—must not give the game away.  "Thanks, Professor.  If you'll excuse me, I should get back to Gryffindor Tower—" 

Lockhart nodded his assent.  "Certainly, certainly—it is a school night, after all—" He took a step back.

"Thanks," Aeryn murmured.

"But you really shouldn't be wandering the hallways alone," he exclaimed brightly, and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, reining her back with a jerk.  With a swift movement, he neatly tucked her stiff arm into the crook of his elbow.  "Why, just last week, I discovered a small clutch of ghouls playing kick-the-can over in an abandoned hallway on the second floor," he said, beginning to stroll down the hallway with Aeryn in tow.  "I, of course, dispersed of them quite quickly, but I can only imagine the trouble they would have given to a person of lesser talent.  No, Miss Blake, in light of recent developments, I really must insist that you allow me to escort you back to your dormitory."

Aeryn wondered fleetingly what the professor had been doing in an abandoned hallway as she fought the urge to tear herself from his touch.  Every fiber of her being crawled at his presence, but if she were to let her displeasure show, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would instantly realize that something was afoot—after all, the cowed, beaten Aeryn she was supposed to play would have no reason to suspect Lockhart's involvement in the Snape saga.  

"All right," she said after a moment, swallowing the lump of disgust rising in her throat and letting a small smile twitch her lips.  "Thank you."

"The pleasure is all mine, my dear," Lockhart said breezily as they walked down the deserted corridor.  "Tell me, how are you enjoying your second term?"

"Just fine, thank you."  She was trying to walk in such a way that only her hand was touching him.  It was a very awkward way to walk, but Aeryn knew that if even the slightest fold of his robe brushed her skin, she would scream.  

"And classes?" Lockhart did not seem to notice her discomfort as they turned a corner.  "Of course, not all lessons can be as fabulously enjoyable as mine—speaking of which, what did you think about this afternoon's lesson?  I think Mr. Potter did a highly suitable job of pretending to be a blight-eaten horde of zombies—granted, he's still got a ways to go before he's as consummate an actor as me, but still, he's passable."

"Mmm."  Aeryn bit her lip, looking with extreme interest at the tapestries padding the walls.  The palm of her hand was beginning to sweat against the fabric of Lockhart's robe.  She coughed politely and halted, trying to slip her hand from his elbow to cover her mouth.

His hand clamped down suddenly upon hers.

"As passable an actor as Professor Snape, I would imagine," the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor said quietly, the bantering tone gone from his voice.

Aeryn's heart gave a great leap in her chest.  Her eyes slowly traveled up to Lockhart's face and found his handsome features, usually so cheerful and comfortingly benign, suddenly expressionless.  A horrified, sickly smile twitched her lips.  "Wha…what?" she choked, hoping that her interpretation of his meaning was horribly wrong.

"Of course, I wouldn't be in the position to judge his abilities," Lockhart murmured, his voice low and cold as he raked Aeryn's body with his eyes.  "Acting or otherwise."

She felt the blood drain from her cheeks.  "Excuse me?"

"I would expect a wiry old chap like him to have a lot of pent-up frustration…in more ways than one."

His eyes were unreadable as he said the words.  Aeryn licked her parched lips.  "I…" She stumbled back a step, but his grip on her did not slacken.  All of a sudden, it was very difficult to breathe.  "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

"How has Potions been, Miss Blake?" The coldest of smiles twitched Lockhart's lips.  "I don't mean your regularly scheduled classes—though I'm sure they're quite _stimulating _in a different sense—I mean your one-on-one study sessions."  His eyes glittered.  "At night.  In his chambers."

With a sharp yank, Aeryn tore her hand from his grasp and stepped backwards, every muscle in her body instantly alert.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor grinned again with a smile that could freeze the Sahara as he took a slow step towards her.

"You know, Miss Blake," he purred, "as grand as it is being Magical Me, there are moments when I ache to be that foul black-haired Potions master."

His hands lightninged towards her.  Aeryn threw herself to the side and frantically dashed towards the staircase, but Lockhart's fingers wrapped around her wrist as she shot past him.  Before she could tear herself away, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor swung her with all his might and sent her crashing into the wall.  As the breath wheezed from her lungs, Lockhart grabbed Aeryn's jaw and firmly smashed the back of her head against the stoneiHisswung her with all h.  

Bursts of light exploded before her eyes and Aeryn groaned, slumping back against the wall.  Unconsciousness claimed her for a moment; then, she became dimly aware of a hand fumbling at her bodice.  She cracked open her eyes to see the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's face bare inches from hers.

"Let me go," she snarled weakly over the waves of pain roiling in her skull.  

In answer, her shoulder blades were slammed back even harder against the wall.  "Oh, but you don't say that to _him, _now do you?"  Lockhart hissed.  "And all because he knows that you're a mutant."  A cold chuckle rasped in his throat as her eyes grew wide.  "Don't be surprised, little sparrow—he's told me _all _about you."   

_Get away.  Now._

Aeryn thrashed sideways, but was rewarded with a stinging backhand across her face that left her gasping.  Her head—if only—she tried to reach out with her mutant powers, but she was unable to concentrate with the agony throbbing through her skull—

"Such a wonderful power a little knowledge can bring, don't you think?"  His hand groped for her left breast and squeezed it hard.

"Stop—"

"I've given you _plenty _of opportunities to run to me for help," he spat through gritted teeth.  A huge gargoyle leered from the corner of the hallway and Lockhart threw Aeryn at its feet with a bestial growl.__

"Opening my office to you—" 

There was a sharp _riiiip _as he hooked a hand in her skirt and savagely tore it sideways.

"Dropping hints—"  

Aeryn sat up weakly with muscles that had suddenly gone limp.

"Didn't think of coming to me, did you?"  There was no beauty in the face that loomed over her.  Lockhart's cheeks were flushed a dark red, and his blue eyes glittered like knife blades in the flickering torchlight.  Aeryn struggled to rise to her feet, tried to aim a well-placed kick into his crotch, but he swooped down on her and pinned her arms to her sides. 

"What's the matter, songbird?" he snarled.  

The stone gargoyle's features were cold and expressionless in the torchlight.

My head…. 

"Tell me, pretty wren," hissed Gilderoy Lockhart.  His blond hair caught the torchlight and silhouetted his face in a frame of yellow fire.  

The pain….

"Was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor not good enough for you?"  

"No—"

Lockhart reached beneath Aeryn's torn skirt and yanked her panties down.  

_"Stop—"_

He drove his foot between Aeryn's legs, forcing her thighs open.

"Please—" 

He stepped between her legs and knelt, pulling the hem of his robe up to his waist as he pressed her back against the gargoyle with his other hand.  Aeryn writhed against him, trying to push him away, to break herself free, but her movements were sluggish, hindered by the blinding pain echoing behind her eyes, and he was so heavy—

A black splotch hurtled from the shadows of the half-lit corridor, and a hand suddenly grabbed Lockhart's shoulder.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor leapt to his feet and spun around, his features twisted in rage, and the black-robed figure behind him smashed a fist into Lockhart's handsome jaw before he could breathe a word.  Lockhart tumbled to the floor with a pained cry, clutching his face in his hands.

Professor Snape's head whipped around and he looked at Aeryn.  Anger and shame heated her cheeks as she hurriedly wrapped her arms around herself to keep him from seeing what Lockhart had done, but his coal-black gaze instantly saw everything.  His nostrils flared as a horrible rage tightened the muscles of his face.  After a long moment, he slowly turned back to the fallen Lockhart.  

Aeryn's breath came in short little gasps as she crawled to her feet, clumsily gathering her torn garments around her.  Her head was light, as if the slightest touch would send it bouncing from her shoulders, and she leaned against the stone sentinel, trying to control the trembling in her muscles.  Snape did not turn to look at her, but took a small step backwards until he was standing directly in front of her, shielding her from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Lockhart's fuchsia robes rustled as he crawled to his feet, whimpering slightly.  Aeryn peered around Snape's shoulder, her eyes wide and slightly glazed with pain. Lockhart gingerly put a finger in his mouth and wiggled a few teeth.  He pulled his hand away reddened with blood, choked, and turned his head to glare blisteringly at Snape.  

"Lockhart."  Snape spat the name from his throat like a curse.

With what appeared to be a great effort, Lockhart drew himself up into a standing position.  "Severus."  His glittering blue eyes darted from the Potions master's face, to Aeryn, and then back again.  A thin trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his lips.  "What are you doing here?" 

Aeryn could see Snape's muscles tighten beneath his black robe as he struggled, obviously trying not to lash out at the other professor.  "I think the question should be what _you _are doing here, Gilderoy," he said in a voice knotted with rage.

A myriad of warring emotions crossed the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's features, and Aeryn held her breath.  But a slow, evil smile split his face, showing reddened teeth as he cautiously touched his jaw.  "What's the matter, old chap?" he asked quietly.  The words were slightly slurred.  "A little jealous, are we?"

"I'm not a jealous man, Gilderoy."  Snape's clenched fists were white.  "I just don't like other people touching my things."

Lockhart laughed, the blood from his mouth glistening in the light with his movement.  Shaking his head disbelievingly, he spread his hands.  "But can you blame me, Sev?"  He gestured towards Aeryn, his eyes hardening in satisfaction at her flinch.  "I mean, _look _at her!"

He stepped forward, but Snape's hand shot out and grabbed the front of his robe.

"You can look all you want, Gilderoy," Snape snarled, "but she's _mine."_

The Potions master blocked Aeryn from seeing the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's face, but she saw his body go very still.   For a very long moment, there was a heavy silence.  "Oh, Severus," Lockhart murmured finally.  "Be a sport."  A throaty chuckle echoed from his throat, and he slowly reached up a hand to loosen Snape's grasp on his robe.  "Haven't you ever heard of sharing?"

Snape's shoulders hunched.  "I don't share my things," he growled.  He shoved Lockhart away from him and moved back to Aeryn's side, keeping his eyes trained on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Sev, how selfish of you," Lockhart pouted, tossing his blond head.  His periwinkle-blue eyes latched on Aeryn and a perfectly slimy look crossed his face.  "Come on, it might be fun…" His fuchsia robe fluttered as he sauntered towards her.  "We could go back to your chambers…have a drink…perhaps a nice little late-night _ménage á trois_…" His grin grew wider at Aeryn's horrified look.  "They say three's company," he purred.

With a swift motion, he lunged for her, but Snape was quicker.  He grabbed Aeryn's waist and pulled her to him, pressing her face into his chest.

"Three may be company, but it's also a crowd," he muttered.  Aeryn could feel the tautness of his muscles through his robe.  "No, Gilderoy.  She's all mine."

Lockhart stiffened as if he had been slapped.  "I gave her to you," he spat in a low, cold voice, "and I can just as easily take her away."

Snape wrapped his arms securely around Aeryn.  "Try it," the Potions master snarled, "and I'll break your neck."

The pure hatred in their eyes nearly blistered the air as the two professors' gazes locked.  The silence was suffocating, and Aeryn willed herself not to shudder, not to even _move as her teachers stared at each other, each one silently willing the other to give quarter.  _

Long, overpowering moments passed.  Then, finally, the glass-hard features of Gilderoy Lockhart relaxed slightly, and he heaved a short, explosive sigh.  He smiled, an angry gesture, and flung his hands helplessly in the air.   "Well, if you're quite sure," he said, the lightness of his tone not quite hiding the underlying steel of his words.

Snape's fingers tightened across Aeryn's back.

Lockhart tossed his blond locks, his handsome face once again benign and cheerful.  He shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand down his robe, smoothing out the imperceptible wrinkles.  "Have fun, Sev.  I'll just have to settle for my imagination and my right hand."  One periwinkle-blue eye shuttered in a lewd wink, and, with a flurry of fuchsia robes, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sauntered down the hallway, humming to himself as he faded out of sight in the flickering torchlight.

Aeryn's knees buckled and she slumped against the Potions master.  Something warm and sticky was running down the back of her neck…her head…the _pain…Snape tried to steady her as she collapsed; then, as she attempted unsuccessfully to regain her footing, Snape scooped her from the ground and started off down the hallway.  Aeryn instinctively curled up in his arms, resting her pounding head against his chest.  _

"Where are you taking me?"  It was impossible to keep the quaver from her voice.

"Someplace safe," the Potions master said in a low voice.  He hurried with her down the darkened corridors to the Slytherin dungeons, barely pausing long enough to hiss the password before he rushed into the common room.  Aeryn kept her eyes screwed firmly shut until they reached Snape's private chambers.  Save for her throbbing head, her entire body felt numb, as if she had been given a heavy dose of Novocaine.  

As carefully as if she had been made of glass, the Potions master laid Aeryn down on a couch before the fireplace.  She shakily sat up, folding her legs beneath her and hugging herself tightly.  She could still feel Lockhart's hands burning into her body.  Aeryn chewed her lip, trying to fight back the growing lump in her throat, and barely noticed when Snape sat next to her on the couch.

"Miss Blake.  Look at me."

Aeryn kept her eyes firmly fixed on the brocade of the couch.  Like the rest of Snape's décor, the fabric was of dark, rich colors that drank the firelight.  The terror that had locked her muscles was beginning to melt, leaving her trembling.  

He slowly reached a hand for her face, and Aeryn instinctively flinched back before he could touch her.

"Miss Blake, you're bleeding."  His voice was unnaturally low and even. "Let me help you."  

She did not pull away when he reached for her a second time.  Snape very gently cupped her face between his hands and drew her head against his chest.  Aeryn closed her eyes, letting the cool silk of his robe soothe her skin.  His long fingers delicately grazed the throbbing place at the back of her head, moving even more softly when she winced.  He murmured several words that Aeryn could not understand, pressing his fingertips at the base of her skull, and a cool numbness spread from his fingers to blanket the pulsing ache.

"It's a wonder he didn't kill you," the Potions master whispered as if to himself, but Aeryn heard him clearly.

The pain had completely leached from her head.  She drew away from him, gingerly putting a hand to the back of her skull.  Her hair was sticky with blood, but she felt no pain, not even when she pressed firmly against the place where she had hit the wall.  Being very careful not to look at the Potions master, she probed out cautiously with her mutant powers.  An open book on the coffee table slammed shut in response, and she silently breathed a sigh of relief.

A goblet of water appeared suddenly beneath her nose.  "Here.  Drink this."

Aeryn took the goblet from him and sipped from it, then nearly spit out a mouthful of water as Snape suddenly ran a hand through her hair.

"Relax," he said, resting his other hand on her shoulder at her startled jump.  "I'm only cleaning the blood away."

Aeryn closed her eyes and buried her nose in the goblet, hoping against hope that he couldn't feel her shaking.  It was very difficult to drink water from hands that were trembling like poplar leaves.  Several moments later, Aeryn's hair and the back of her neck were slightly damp, but clean, when Snape banished a bloodstained cloth into thin air.  She drew a deep breath and wordlessly placed the empty goblet on the coffeetable.  

Snape rose to his feet and walked over to the fireplace, resting a hand on the mantel.  A black blotch backlit by the blaze, he did not turn to look at her.  When he spoke again, his voice was slightly muffled by the snapping of the flames.  "As soon as you're ready, I'll escort you back to Gryffindor Tower."

An image of the evilly grinning Lockhart, lurking behind the myriad corners of the passageways, flew Technicolor into the cinema of her mind.  He was out there, in the hallways, beyond the walls of the dungeons.  An unconscious whimper escaped from Aeryn's throat.  "No."  The word was rusty as an oiled gate.  She gulped a huge breath, feeling her cheeks flush as the pounding of her heart accelerated.  "I—I can't, I—"

The soft rustle of his robes interrupted her as he turned away from the mantel.  "Miss Blake, I will make sure nothing happens to you."  Backlit as he was by the flames, she could not see his features, but his voice was surprisingly gentle.  "I promise."

Aeryn shook her head violently.  "No."  Her shoulders twitched at the memory of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor slamming her against the wall, whispering into her ear, reaching beneath her skirt…"Don't make me go," she choked.

Snape started forward.  "Miss Blake—"

Aeryn blindly turned away from him, squeezing her eyes shut.  If he made her walk out of these rooms—even stand up from the couch—she knew she would lose it.  There was no way she could make it to Gryffindor Tower.  "Please," she whispered.  _I ache to be that foul black-haired Potions master, _Gilderoy Lockhart leered in her mind, and Aeryn whimpered, clamping hands on the sides of her face as if the pressure could wring the memories from her brain.  She raised her tear-rimmed eyes to the professor's face.  "I can't—go out there."

The light pooled in Snape's hawkish features, accentuating the concern edging his coal-black eyes.  "Miss Blake, I can't allow you to stay here."

_"Please_," Aeryn sobbed.  She was hyperventilating now, her body shaking uncontrollably.  There was no way she could leave the room—not if it had suddenly burst into flame, filled with poisonous smoke, or even if the Dark Lord himself was suddenly standing before her.  "I…no…please, no…."

Snape's lips tightened.  Aeryn hiccupped.  The Potions master's features creased with a visible struggle, and Aeryn held her breath for a long moment, waiting to see what he would say.  Then Snape sighed, a harsh, explosive sound.  "Fine," he muttered, yanking his wand from his belt.  "I'll call up McGonagall."

Aeryn's eyes followed him warily.  "Why?"

Snape glared down at her.  "Because when my Slytherins see you creeping from my chambers tomorrow morning, I don't want her getting the wrong impression," he snapped, his words taking on the clipped quality he reserved for chastising Neville Longbottom in Potions.  "If I am to be dismissed from my job for sleeping with a student, I would prefer the charge not to be for the one night that I am innocent of blame."  He paused, and a cold, self-deprecating smile twisted his lips.  "The irony would be almost too much."

He swept into the opposite room, and Aeryn slumped back against the pillows of the couch, utterly drained.  The sharp click of heels against the stone floor alerted her a few moments later, and she raised her head to watch Snape stalk back into the sitting room, his jaw set as he carried a white _parlus _globe in his right palm.  He stopped before Aeryn and shoved his hand beneath her nose, his coal-black eyes glittering.   

"She wants to speak with you," he said tersely.

Aeryn eyed the glowing globe cautiously.

"Just do it." Snape's voice was tight.  Then, in a lower voice: "Don't let her see your torn clothes, or she'll be down here before you can say _untraceable poisons."_

Blood pounded in Aeryn's throat.  She swallowed hard and focused her gaze into the _parlus _bubble.  "Professor McGonagall?"  She was unable to keep the quiver from her voice.

"Miss Blake."  The deputy headmistress' clipped voice was tinny and irritated.  "Professor Snape tells me that you fell ill this evening while helping him with a Potions experiment.  Why were you performing experiments this late in the evening?"

"Uh…" Aeryn's lips were as dry as parchment.  She roughly cleared her throat, feeling her stomach lurch within her.  "I didn't expect it would take this long, Professor."

Professor McGonagall's sharp eyes, minimized by the globe of light, were still able to glare Aeryn down.  "He also says that you wish to remain in his rooms for the evening." Her face hardened. "I cannot approve of this."

_Don't panic.  _"I—I don't feel well, Professor," Aeryn murmured.  That at least was the truth.  She smiled weakly, hoping that her teeth wouldn't chatter.  "I think it's best if I stay where I am and…get a good night's rest."

"If you're feeling that poorly, Miss Blake," snapped the deputy headmistress, "you should spend the night in the infirmary, not in a teacher's chambers.  It is not acceptable."

Aeryn's stomach flip-flopped.  The last thing she needed was a thorough once-over by Madam Pomfrey's all-seeing eyes.  "I don't need the infirmary, Professor.  I just don't think I can make it up to Gryffindor Tower."  At the moment, she wasn't even sure if she could rise from the couch.  "I'll be fine in the morning.  Honest."

McGonagall's lips firmed in a line of displeasure.  Aeryn could almost see her chance fading away before her eyes, and she desperately grasped for her one remaining lifeline.  "Professor, nothing is going to happen between—"

"All _right_, Miss Blake," Professor McGonagall cried, and Aeryn quickly swallowed the rest of her phrase.  The deputy headmistress sighed and rubbed a hand across her forehead.  "Let me speak with Professor Snape," she said finally.

Snape took the globe and whirled away into the opposite room with a swirl of black robes.  His raised voice, muted slightly by the distance, rang through the walls with interspersed pauses while the deputy headmistress, no doubt, had her say.  Several minutes later, the Potions master returned to the sitting room, grumbling to himself.

"What did she say?" Aeryn asked cautiously, bracing herself for his answer.

Snape pushed a hand through his black hair, frustration etching his angular features.    "She explained to me how much I was jeopardizing my teaching position with these shenanigans, and told me a number of times that she did not approve of the situation."  He turned his back on Aeryn and paced to the fireplace, his shoulders set.  "After I explained to her that we would sleep in separate rooms and I had no intention of taking advantage of you, she said she would not force you to come back to Gryffindor Tower."  

Sweet, sweet relief flooded through Aeryn's body.  

"I told her rather forcefully that if I intended anything immoral," Snape said, laughing bitterly, "I wouldn't be asking her permission for you to spend the night."

Her body relaxed against the cushions of the couch.  For the evening at least, she was safe.  Whatever happened to her in the morning…she could handle it, she could take it, even the disbelieving stares of her classmates or the hard, disapproving glare of Professor McGonagall.  For one night, she could allow herself to drop the façade that everything was fine.  Right now, that stress would have been unbearable.

"Thank you," she whispered.

A deep silence fell, broken only by the soft snapping of the fire.  

The rustle of robes echoed in the air as, after a long moment, Snape turned and walked towards her.  "That couch is sure to be uncomfortable."  He leaned down and held out his hand.  "I'll help you to the bedroom."

"No!"  

The word exploded from Aeryn's throat as she recoiled away from the Potions master, her eyes widening in horror.  

Snape pulled back.  He opened his mouth as if to make a reply, but then his coal-black eyes caught on her terrified face.  His features softened slightly.  "I see," he said quietly. 

Aeryn looked away from him.

"Very well, then."  He stepped away from her.  "Will you be comfortable enough out here?  There's a comforter across the back of your couch, and a few throw pillows next to you."

Aeryn nodded.  "Yes, thank you."  She was suddenly very cold, and she shivered.

"Can I bring you anything?"  His voice was light.

She shook her head.  "No."

There was a brief silence, and Aeryn glanced into the fireplace, watching the intoxicating dance of the flames.  She was brought out of her reverie as the Potions master cleared his throat sharply, his heels clicking on the stone floor as he walked towards his bedroom.  "Then good night, Miss Blake."

Her eyes followed him.  "Professor Snape?"

Snape paused, his hand resting on the threshold of his bedroom.  He turned and glanced over his shoulder.  "Yes?"

Aeryn swallowed, lacing her fingers across a throw pillow.  Perhaps she should not ask…but no, she had to know.  "What…what were you doing…" Her voice was weak even to her own ears, but she drew a deep breath and forced the words out of her throat. "Why were you in the hallway?  Tonight?"

His features were impossible to see through the shadows flickering in the room.  When the Potions master finally spoke, his voice was oddly smooth.  "You were screaming inside my head," he said simply, and without another word, he disappeared through the darkened doorway of his bedroom.

*          *          *

_There was water everywhere, above, below, beside her…Aeryn flailed her arms desperately, feeling the oxygen burning away to nothingness in her lungs, trying to claw her way to the surface, but it was so dark, and she couldn't tell if her feeble attempts were drawing her to the surface or pulling her to the bottom_….

A brilliant white light flashed before her eyes, to the side of her, and Aeryn kicked frantically towards it.  The water suddenly turned murky around her, black as India ink, and as she paused, confused, the brilliant light coalesced before her into a grinning Gilderoy Lockhart.

_ A silent stream of bubbles poured from Aeryn's lips as she screamed, flailing backwards in the water.  Lockhart reached forward and grabbed her, and suddenly she was back at home, her parents' home in Newhaven.  She struggled.  She was seated on a chair, and her hands and legs were bound.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher giggled manically before her.  _

_"Too bad you never finished reading my memoirs," he said, raising his wand.  Aeryn strained against the ropes, but they held fast.  She turned her head to the side, looking for a way to escape, and her eyes grazed across a familiar figure._

_"Daddy," she pleaded.  "Help me."_

_Her father, holding her mother by the hand, walked over to Lockhart's side.  Roger Blake turned sad eyes on his daughter and shook his head._

_"It's too late, Aeryn," he murmured._

_Fiona's face was sober.  "This is no time to shirk your responsibility, darling," she said._

_Aeryn opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off as Lockhart raised his arms and cried _"Avada Kedavra!" _A sickly green light shot from the end of his wand and enveloped Aeryn's parents, who dropped to the ground as if felled by an ax.  _

_Aeryn shrieked, and the professor turned, but this time it was Snape who glared her down.  _"Quid pro quo_, Miss Blake," he hissed, and with one powerful move, he dashed Aeryn from the chair and flung her across the room.  _

_Her shoulders struck the wall, and the stones crumbled away against the impact, and suddenly Aeryn was falling, falling through a blackness deeper than the night sky, and her limbs flailed uselessly as she dropped through the pit, the light above her growing dimmer and dimmer, and a high-pitched, evil laughter echoed above her, and suddenly she was grabbed by unseen hands and shaken back and forth, rattling her until it felt that her teeth would come loose, and an urgent voice was calling her name, Miss Blake, Miss Blake, wake up—_

"Miss Blake!"  

Someone had her by the shoulders and was firmly shaking her.  Aeryn's eyes flew open.  For one terrifying moment, she thought she was still hurtling down the dark pit, and she cried out, sitting up and tearing herself away from the figure.  A cold sweat poured down her back, making her robe cling to her body, and she shuddered, bringing her hands to her face.

The figure before her snapped his fingers, and the room lit with a soft glow.  Professor Snape, clad in a long gray nightshirt and looking slightly tousled, slowly sat down on the arm of the couch.  His eyes were underlined with black half-circles.  As her mind began to emerge from the haze of the nightmare, Aeryn belatedly remembered where she was.  

"You were screaming."  The Potions master's voice was hollow.

Aeryn drew a deep, shaky breath.  She ran a hand absently down her robe, and her fingers snagged in the torn fabric.  She looked down, slightly surprised to feel the loose threads beneath her fingertips, and the memory of the hallway encounter came whirling back to her with a blinding force.  Her stomach lurched.

"Are you all right?"

She swallowed, feeling bile rise in her throat.  The sweat on her body was beginning to dry, and she shivered.  She did not want him here.  The memory of Lockhart and the remnants of the nightmare were too close, too real, and she did not want him to see her fear.  She opened her mouth to say that she was fine, that she was all right, and that he could go back to his room and leave her alone…

"Miss Blake?"

But even in the half-lit room, the flickering shadows were so dark…

"No," she whispered, staring into the smoldering embers of the fireplace.  "No, I'm not all right."

She waited for him to reply, but the Potions master said nothing.  

"I always think that I'm okay, that no matter what happens to me I can handle it," Aeryn said finally, her voice soft.  A bitter smile twitched her lips, and she brought her knees up under her chin.  The room was so cold.  "Because I'm strong."  

Snape did not speak.  Aeryn squeezed her eyes shut.  There was a hard lump growing in the base of her throat, and she swallowed, as if the motion would dissolve it.  

_…the brilliant light coalesced before her into a grinning Gilderoy Lockhart…_

She shuddered.  "But then, just when I think I'm fine, when I've got everything under control…something happens…"

…Quid pro quo_, Miss Blake, he hissed, and with one powerful move, he dashed Aeryn from the chair and flung her across the room_….

The lump in her throat grew larger.  "Something that jars me, brings my guard down…"  

…Tell me, pretty wren, was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor not good enough for you….

Her breath rattled in her throat.  "And then…it all floods over me …and I'm back…" She clenched her teeth together, feeling the painful beginnings of tears gather in the corner of her eyes.  "I'm back in your bedroom, and…"  

…_No more subterfuge, Miss Blake.  I am tired of my advances being ignored_….

"And _you…"_ She choked on unshed tears.  "I can still feel your hands on my skin…in…"

_…Seventy points…for Gryffindor_….

She gave a soft whimper and buried her head in her hands, trying to shut out the overwhelming flood of memories.

Snape hesitantly laid a hand on Aeryn's back.  "Miss Blake—"

Aeryn flinched away from his touch. "Please don't," she whispered brokenly.

A long, heavy silence fell.  Aeryn dropped her face into her knees and tried to calm her breathing.  In, out, in, out…her hands tightened around her legs.  She had let her guard down, something she had sworn she would not do in front of him.  The silence around her suddenly caused her cheeks to flare.  She bit her lip furiously.

"Miss Blake." 

Aeryn slowly raised her head and looked at the Potions master.  His lean, sallow face was expressionless in the soft light of the room, but his coal-black eyes were filled with a caustic bitterness.  He shrugged, a gesture that looked almost as if it was an afterthought, and the tiniest flicker twitched the edge of his lip.  There was pity in his eyes, cold, stark pity like that of a detached observer, and suddenly Aeryn felt the tremors in her hand and the sweat drying on her back, and she was filled with fury.

Snape's eyes glistened in the light.  "If I could," he said, his voice so low and quiet that it was almost a whisper, "if it was in my power to go back—I would—"

"You would what?" she interrupted fiercely.  Anger filled her every fiber; anger at him, anger at Lockhart, and most of all, anger at herself for being weak and helpless before him.  "What, Professor?" She hissed the words through clenched teeth. "You—would—_what?"  _

At her words, the Potions master gave an almost-imperceptible flinch.  He leaned forward across the couch.  From the drawn look that spread across his face, he must have realized immediately that he had said the wrong thing.  "Miss Blake—"

Aeryn snorted and waved her hand sharply, cutting him off.  "Oh, no.  You don't have to tell me.  I already know."  She grimaced.  "You've already given your answer on that subject, and oh so _very_ eloquent it was."

Confusion flickered across Snape's features.  "I don't—"

"I heard you," she snapped, hysteria beginning to edge her voice. "I heard you, I heard you, I was standing _right there_, and you told Lockhart how muchyou enjoyed it!"  She could see him sitting in his office, his face pale as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher taunted him that cold, Christmas evening, the scene as vivid as if it was happening that very moment.  "Every second, you said, without even caring that I was standing there, listening to _every word you said."_

Snape's face grew rigid.

"Don't you dare pretend that you care about the hell_ you put me through," she snarled softly.  "If you had the chance, you'd do it all over again."_

A faint color stained his sallow cheeks.  "That's not true," he protested.

"Oh, yeah?"  She clenched her fists tightly, glaring furiously at him.  Her pulse pounded furiously in her ears like a drum.  "Prove it to me, Professor!  Tell me what you _really _meant when you said that deep down you enjoyed it!"  She leaned forward, her slate-blue gaze blistering into his face.  

Their eyes locked.  Aeryn's heart hammered loudly in her chest, but she refused to lower her glare.  She had to know.  A visible struggle crossed Snape's face as he stared at her, and Aeryn could almost see the myriad thoughts threading through his brain.  Then, almost instantaneously, his features smoothed as if stroked by an invisible hand, leaving only his coal-black eyes smoldering.  He rose to his feet slowly and he fixed a glare down his hooked nose that would have sent the most hardened seventh year into a trembling fit.

"All right, Miss Blake." His voice was clipped and cold.  "Since you have asked, I will tell you the truth.  I was not entirely honest with you regarding the effects that the Berserker's Mead has on a person."  His lips twitched, and he swallowed before continuing.  "As I told you before, it brings to light the most basic emotions of our psyche, but I neglected to mention…" He paused, and his jaw clenched tightly.  "…that…."  

Aeryn leaned forward slightly.

"The emotions are…" Snape closed his eyes for a half-second.  "Ones that…are already in the forefront of the person's mind," he finished hurriedly, pushing a hand through his oily black hair.

For a brief moment, Aeryn had no idea what he was saying.  Then, as the comprehension of his words hit her, her eyes widened in disbelief.  "What do you mean?" she asked, feeling a sickening ache spread through her stomach.

Snape's cheeks flushed.  "I'm only human, Miss Blake!"  He looked defiantly into her face.  "And even though I'm your professor, I'm not blind!"  He cleared his throat and rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, his gaze sliding to the Oriental carpet.  "You're just…you…" His voice trailed away.  

Somewhere, in the very back of Aeryn's mind, a crazy little voice was warbling…_hey, wait, I got a new complaint…_No, of course, he couldn't mean it, he _couldn't._  "You mean you were…" She almost choked on the words.  _"…attracted_ to me?"  

"It was nothing quite as poetic as that," the Potions master snapped immediately, his voice regaining a fraction of its normal iciness.  "It's merely one of those millennia-old instincts that we, as civilized folk, would prefer to believe we've bred from us." His shoulders straightened, and he drew a deep breath.  "But that's what it boils down to—_breeding."  _He lifted his hands and outlined a rough hourglass figure in the air."With your—for lack of a better term—_voluptuous _figure, you're a textbook Mother Earth incarnate, the ageless icon that symbolizes fertility and reproduction."  

He shrugged, his words becoming smoother and more detached, as if he was merely delivering a lecture to his class.  "Before I took the Mead, it was never more than a passing, barely conscious thought—the same thought, I'm certain, that passes through every man's subconscious when he looks at you, though he is unaware of it."

Aeryn sat up on the couch, her back ramrod-straight and her eyes glittering at him.  She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  "Am I supposed to be flattered by this?" she whispered. 

"Don't be daft," Snape retorted harshly.  "It's that ancient survival-of-the-species instinct."  He rolled his eyes in frustration and turned his back on her.  "It was your pheromones.  Or something."  He waved a hand absently in the air.

Aeryn opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out.  She felt as if she had just swallowed a cannonball.  Her throat was tight, and the only breath that came from her lungs was short and strained.  A stinging, burning sensation ran up and down her skin, as if a thousand fire ants had suddenly attacked her.  Snape had clasped his hands behind his back and was standing as still as a sentinel.  His bare legs emerging from the bottom of his nightshirt, juxtaposed with his sober, solemn mien, were so incongruous that a bubble of hysterical laughter caught in the base of Aeryn's throat.

"Pheromones?" she gasped finally.  It was hard to breathe past the lump in her throat.  "You explain…your actions…because of _pheromones?"  _And then she began to laugh, a strained laugh that filled the silent room like the sound of a heart breaking.  

"I was right," she whispered.

He did not turn to look at her.  "About what?"  

She shook her head, trying to toss away the welling pain gathering behind her eyes.  "You have no heart."

His shoulders jerked as if he had been smacked.  His head turned slightly, his profile illuminated by the half-light.  "You can't expect me to—"

"It was my _pheromones."  _She spat the word out as if it had been a rotten piece of meat."My _voluptuous figure."  _Her fists knotted in the torn fabric of her skirt.  "The _survival-of-the-species instinct," _she gasped, the words splintering in her throat.

"That's not what I meant," he said quickly.

Aeryn giggled and put a trembling hand to her mouth.  "So," she said in a high-pitched voice, "when I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because I can feel the memory of your hands burning into my skin, I can console myself because, after all, it was my _pheromones _that made you act that way."

He whirled around on his heel.  "I—"

"No, don't bother!" Aeryn cried, flinging her hands up in front of her.  "I understand perfectly."  She drew a quivering breath.  "It was all my fault, me and my fertility-icon figure."

Snape took a step forward.  "No, you—"

"Honestly, Professor, you've explained it so clearly that I can hardly believe I ever blamed you for your actions," Aeryn said.  The shudders wracking her body were so violent that she was swaying against the couch, but she forced herself to remain in control, to keep glaring at him.  "Small matter that I can't even accept the smallest of compliments on my appearance without shuddering in disgust."

"Miss Blake—"

"That even the most innocent of glances makes me want to vomit."  She wanted to go on, to singe him with her wit, to hurt him so deeply that he could never look at her again without flinching—but the muscles of her jaw bunched, and a sob caught in her throat, and Aeryn had to stop and grab hold of the control that was slipping from her with each passing second. 

The Potions master walked towards her.  His face was unreadable, and his coal-black eyes were expressionless.  But Aeryn could no longer look at him.  She fixed her eyes on the Oriental carpet, not even glancing towards him when he lowered his body onto the arm of the couch.

"Had I known this would upset you so," he said finally, in a dead voice, "I wouldn't have spoken of it."

Aeryn sniffed.  "Did you imagine I would react in any other way?" she asked softly.

The semblance of a laugh emerged from Snape's mouth.  "I thought perhaps that you would be a little more understanding."

Aeryn recoiled as if a bullet had hit her.  Her head jerked up and she stared balefully at the Potions master.  _"Understanding?" _she hissed.

"I—"

Fury boiled within her.  "How _dare _you preach to me about being _understanding!" _she shrieked, leaping to her feet.  Fire lit her slate-blue eyes as she drew herself to her full height. "Do you _understand, _Professor, what you've done to me?"

Snape held up a hand.  "Miss Blake, listen—"

With a shriek, Aeryn slapped his hand away.  "No!  You listen!" she cried, pointing a finger under his hooked nose.  His words had opened a conduit in her soul, and now everything, every horrible event of the past six months came surging back to her.  

"Do you know," she snarled, "that whenever anyone looks at me with even a _hint _of admiration in their eyes, all I want to do is run to my room and hide?  Or you probably haven't noticed, since you've been dealing with your _own _personal pain—which, may I remind you, is hardly personal anymore, since _I've _been the one taking care of you as if you were a helpless child!"

Her breathing became ragged as it hooked in her throat.  Snape made a movement as if to rise from the couch.

"I bet you don't even care that I was a virgin that first night, do you?"

The Potions master froze as if Petrified.

Aeryn flung out her arms mockingly.  "Yes, Professor!  Congratulations!  You are the first man to have known the pleasures of my voluptuous figure!"  Her voice was trembling.  "Does that make you proud to know that your instincts successfully plundered me of that one _smidgeon _of innocence that remained in me?"

Snape's lips moved without sound.

Her vision blurred, but she continued on doggedly.  "You have—the _audacity—_to tell me that it was your subconscious desire that caused you to treat me as you did, and that you can't be blamed, because it was your _instincts!_

"Reasoning everything away with your instincts can't take back why all I want to do is tear my hair out and smear mud on my face, so no one will ever look at me again, so I can be ugly, so maybe I can spare myself ever having to face someone like you again!"

She drew a shuddering breath, and was horrified as a sob escaped her lips.  "And I shouldn't have to," she whispered, feeling a hot tear escape from the corner of her eye. "I _shouldn't."  _

The Potions master's expressionless façade had crumbled, revealing a pity and horror so raw that it nearly took Aeryn's breath away.  Snape rose to his feet, and, as Aeryn paused, her fists curled and her teeth clenched, he slowly spread his arms in a helpless gesture.

"I didn't mean it," he whispered.

The words were like kerosene on a fire.  

_"How could you?" _Aeryn screamed, and she launched herself at him, striking his body with her fists, pummeling him as hard as she could, trying to beat him to the ground until no more than a bloody splotch remained, not caring if he retaliated, let him try…but the Potions master stood still, his body rocking slightly as the hysterical girl pounded him and called him every foul thing imaginable.  And then suddenly Aeryn's gaze glazed over and her sure fists buckled under the impact of her punches, and with a heartwrenching moan she crumpled against Snape's chest, her fists knotting in his nightshirt, and she began to weep uncontrollably, her small body quaking with the force of her sobs.

Then, gently, the Potions master's arms slipped around her, and Aeryn's legs buckled beneath her.  Snape sat down on the couch and Aeryn collapsed in his embrace as he held her close, his long fingers stroking her hair as she buried her face in his shoulder, letting the tiring waves of emotion sweep over her.

And there, in the arms of the Potions master, Aeryn cried herself to sleep.   


	28. The Very Secret Diary

**Chapter 28:  The Very Secret Diary**

Light.

A faint rustling noise.

The sheet against her skin was silk and Aeryn stretched a hand across the top of the covers, wondering fuzzily where she was.  The woolen texture of a thickly woven blanket met her fingertips.  She opened her eyes slowly.  A faint, yellowish light from the chandelier illuminated the rich tapestries lining the rough stone walls of the room, and Aeryn blinked, trying to clear the sleep from her vision.  

She sat up, her head reeling groggily.  The huge wooden bed in which she lay did not creak with the movement.  Aeryn yawned and looked around the room, her eyes lighting on the large bookshelf on the opposite wall, near a small desk lined with parchment.  Her gaze glanced on the thick green pile of the carpet, and suddenly she knew where she was.  With a small scream, she threw back the covers and flung herself out of the bed as if she had been burned.

Shuddering, she backed away from the bed, hugging her arms around herself.  A quick glance around the room assured her that she was alone and—after looking down at her body—still clothed.  The initial rush of terror quickly fled, leaving Aeryn slightly embarrassed and more than a little angry.  How _dare _he?  How dare he do such a thing, especially when he _knew_.…

_He must have carried me in here after—_a hot flush of blood surged into Aeryn's cheeks, and she shoved her hands through her tangled mop of hair.  Last night burned like a brand in her memory.  She bit down on her lip hard.  How on _earth _could she have lost control like she did?  And then, to fall asleep in his arms, _crying…_Aeryn felt the memory of his hands gently stroking her hair, and she choked, casting her eyes around the room desperately.

Her eyes snagged across the rumpled covers of the bed.  A light-colored square of fabric was resting on the woolen blanket.  Curiously, she walked to the foot of the bed and picked up the parchment note lying on top.

_Miss Blake_ (the note read)—

_I realise these sleeping arrangements are not to your liking, but I did not want to have to disturb your slumber when I took my antidote this morning.  I thought it best if you spent the night in the bed while I slept in the sitting room.  If it is any consolation, the couch was quite uncomfortable._

_I am going to breakfast right now.  I would have woken you, but did not think it would be appropriate for you & me to stroll into the Great Hall together.  McGonagall would have been greatly displeased._

_I shall be back before classes begin to make certain that you are awake, but if you get this message in time, I feel you should nonetheless try to make an appearance at breakfast.  In my experience, a semblance of normality, no matter how forced, is greatly preferable to uncomfortable explanations._

_Your robe is in no condition to be worn.  I have left something a bit more suitable—I do not know if it will fit you, but it is exceedingly better than the alternative._

_If you choose to leave my chambers to go to breakfast, I trust (as always) that you will be discreet.  _

_I hope the second half of your slumber was a bit more restful than the first._

_-S. Snape _

Aeryn set the note aside and reached for the square of cloth.  Pale-blue silk spilled across the bedcovers as she shook open the folds, and her eyes widened slightly as she saw what she held.  The robe's low, square neckline was edged with seed pearls, and the bodice was worked with a lace pattern so intricate that it made Aeryn dizzy trying to follow it.  The three-quarter length sleeves were made of a gauzy, filmy material that shuddered with the faintest movement, and the skirt alone must have been made from three yards of fabric.  

Altogether, it was amazingly beautiful and absolutely unsuitable for school.

She gnawed on her lower lip, running the silk between her fingers.  Perhaps she could slip into Gryffindor Tower while everyone else was at breakfast and find something a bit more suitable to wear.  She looked down at the robe she was wearing and gave a small sigh.  Maybe one of the seventh year girls could help her magic it back together, but for now, it couldn't be helped.  Squaring her shoulders determinedly, she wriggled from her torn robe and wadded it into a ball, wondering how she was going to get it unnoticed into Gryffindor Tower.  Maybe she could cast an illusion over it to make it look like a textbook or something.  

She stepped into the new robe and slipped her arms into the sleeves.  As she reached behind to button up the back—wondering, not for the first time, why wizard robes never had zippers—she realized it was a task easier said than done.  She had only fastened the bottom two buttons before she discovered the robe was a size too small for her.  Aeryn gritted her teeth, resolved that a mere garment would not best her, and doggedly continued fastening the robe.  

Several minutes later, she was panting with exertion, her arms ached, and the back of her robe was still halfway open.

"Damn it," she growled, putting her hands to her forehead.

She stretched her knotted shoulders and reached back in a second attempt when suddenly the door of the bedroom creaked open and the Potions master stepped into the room with a swirl of black material.  Aeryn jumped back quickly, her heart giving a great leap in her chest at the sight of him.

He halted in his tracks, looking startled.  "Oh!  Excuse me, Miss Blake."  A cordial smile crossed his lips.  "I thought you would have left by now."

Aeryn crossed her arms over her chest to hold up the bodice of her robe, and she turned away from him, feeling her cheeks heat.  "I'm…um…" Her voice cracked, and she looked down at her skirt.  It was a good five inches too long for her, and pooled about her feet like a Christmas-tree drape.  "I must have slept later than I intended," she said after a moment, trying to keep her voice light.  "Is breakfast over?"

"Yes."

His robes rustled as he walked towards her, and the muscles in her back bunched instinctively.  _Please, no, don't let him touch me,_ she thought desperately.  She almost turned to face him, but was stopped as Snape grabbed the back of her robe and tugged it sharply around her.

"If you exhale, this will be a little easier," he murmured, his long fingers deftly doing up the long row of buttons.  Startled, Aeryn did as she was bid, and the back of her robe was closed with only a little struggle a few moments later.

Snape stepped away from her, and Aeryn ruefully ran her hand down her silk-sheathed waist.  The low neckline was struggling to contain her bosom, and she could only draw in shallow half-breaths unless she wanted to split a seam.  But at least it was in one piece, which was more than she could say for the other garment.

"Thanks," she finally remembered to say.  She turned and found him regarding her with disapproving eyes.  He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's too tight," he said.

Aeryn shrugged awkwardly, the gesture a little harder to perform than she had expected.  "It'll work."  Suddenly, the air of the room felt overly warm, and she very much wanted to get away from him.  She ducked into his bathroom and splashed a handful of cold water across her face, then attempted to smooth her sleep-tousled hair.  When she returned to the bedroom, she found the professor gone.  She went through to the sitting room, where he was seated on one of the brocade couches, looking through his lesson plan.

"I'll see you later, Professor," she said hurriedly, starting for the door.

"Do your best not to rip the robe, Miss Blake."  The Potions master's voice, oddly void of emotion, halted her.  "It belonged to my sister."  

Stunned, Aeryn looked slowly back at him.  But his shoulders were curled over the parchment, and he did not move from the couch.

"Okay," she agreed gently, and when he did not answer, she quietly exited the room, her head spinning.

The first class that morning was Transfigurations.  As she slipped quietly into her seat, Ron and Harry immediately pounced upon her.

"Why weren't you at breakfast?" Harry asked, taking the desk next to her.

Ron sat down on her other side and looked appraisingly at her new garb.  "And where'd you get that robe?"  He was still tentative around Aeryn, acting as if she was made of glass that would break with one wrong shake, but their relationship was decisively better than it had been a month ago.

_Oh, great, what should I tell them?_  She was on the verge of telling them not to worry, it was nothing, just a little…_a little what?  You couldn't make up a plausible lie to save your—_

Professor McGonagall stalked into the room, her shoulders squared and her back ramrod-straight—wearing a brown brocade robe in a Victorian pattern, so different from what Gilderoy Lockhart would wear—_Lockhart—last night_—and, suddenly, inspiration came to her.  

"I was almost attacked last night," she whispered, keeping her eyes trained on the deputy headmistress.  "Can I borrow a quill and some parchment?"

She could almost feel the astonishment wafting from Harry and Ron as they rummaged through their bags.  "You don't mean…" gasped Ron, handing her a roll of parchment, "…by the _creature?"_  

"How?" Harry asked, pressing a quill into her hand.

Professor McGonagall had seen Aeryn and was now fixing her with a withering glare that matched Snape's best scowl.  "I can't tell you about it right now," Aeryn muttered, trying not to move her lips.  "Wait 'til after class."

Transfigurations class, even with the unspoken wrath of McGonagall upon her, passed normally.  Aeryn knew her friends were bursting to ask her questions as they attempted to change a bar of soap into a deck of cards, and she silently thanked her lucky stars that she had an hour to perfect her story.  She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably in the robe.  Maybe she would have enough time between Transfigurations and History of Magic to hurry back to Gryffindor Tower and switch robes….

Finally, the bell rang, and Aeryn handed over her quill and parchment for Ron to hold.

"Miss Blake!"  Professor McGonagall's voice split through the buzz of the students rushing for the door.  "You will stay after class."  

Harry and Ron froze over their bags and glanced questioningly at Aeryn.

"You two wait in the hallway," Professor McGonagall said stiffly as she swept over to Aeryn's desk.  The boys were obviously reluctant to leave, but one look at the deputy headmistress' face must have made them reconsider, for they hurried into the hallway.  The door clicked softly shut behind them.

"Well."  Professor McGonagall's voice was clipped and cold.  "I hope you're satisfied."

Aeryn quietly folded her hands on the top of the desk and wisely kept her mouth shut.  After a moment, she looked up at the deputy headmistress and tried not to wince.

Professor McGonagall's pressed her lips tightly together, etching her face in lines of fury.  "Where were you at breakfast this morning?" she asked tightly.

Aeryn swallowed hard.  "I had just woken up."  She hoped her voice was light and free of insolence.  "There wasn't any time for breakfast."

The deputy headmistress' eyes sparkled brilliantly, and for a brief second, Aeryn was afraid she was going to turn her into a horned toad.  But she merely shook her head curtly.  "I trust you know that what happened last night is completely unacceptable, and I will not allow it to happen again."  Professor McGonagall's chin lifted, and she glowered through her square-rimmed glasses at Aeryn.  "From now on, Miss Blake, you have a curfew of ten o'clock.  No exceptions."

Aeryn almost opened her mouth to protest, but decided that probably wasn't the best course of action.

"Do you understand me, Miss Blake?"  From the tone of the deputy headmistress' voice, Aeryn was certain an agonizing, humiliating death would be in store if she didn't obey, so she nodded.

"Yes, Professor," she said respectfully.

"Then you may go."

_Besides,_ Aeryn thought as she headed out the classroom door, _no curfew can hold…The Invisible Girl!_

She was giggling when she found Harry and Ron waiting anxiously for her down the hallway.

"So, what happened?" asked Harry.

Aeryn looked quickly around her, and then motioned the boys closer.  "Okay," she said in a low voice.  "I was wandering the hallways last night—"

"After hours?" interrupted Ron. 

"Yes, after hours, I couldn't sleep."  It was as good a reason as any.  "So I was walking around the lower level, and all of a sudden I felt this _presence_ coming towards me—I picked it up through my telepathy."  She looked meaningfully at them, and was rewarded with a knowing nod.  "I could tell that it wasn't a person or one of the ghosts, so I knew it was the creature from the Chamber of Secrets."  

The look on the boys' faces spurred her to continue.

"So—I panicked." Aeryn pulled a bit of desperation into her voice.  "I ran for the nearest staircase and raced down it, trying to get somewhere safe, and I ended up in front of the Slytherin chambers.  I could feel the creature closing in behind me, and…" She gave a very delicate stage shudder.  "I had no choice but to go in."

Ron looked at her with horrified eyes.  "So you spent the evening in the Slytherin chambers last night?"

Aeryn spread her hands dramatically.  "There was _no way I was going to go back out in the hallways.  I would rather stay with the Slyths then end up Petrified in the hospital wing."_

The boys glanced quickly at each other, and Aeryn bit her lip, casting her gaze to the floor.  "Sorry I panicked, guys," she said after a moment in a chastised tone.  "I guess should have stayed in the hallway and seen what type of monster it was."

"No, you shouldn't have," Harry said immediately.  Aeryn looked at him and was relieved to see understanding on his face.  "I'm glad you're okay."

Ron pointed at her clothes.  "But what happened to your robe?"

Aeryn fingered the skirt.  "It sorta got ruined," she confessed.  "One of the seventh year Slyths gave me this one to wear today."

Ron looked as if he didn't quite believe that a Slytherin would lend a Gryffindor second year—even if the second year happened to be older than her—a robe, especially a lavishly decorated robe, but Aeryn went on with her story before he had a chance to press the matter further.

"So, yeah, that's why I wasn't at breakfast."  She laughed slightly and motioned over her shoulder to the Transfigurations classroom.  "And McGonagall just gave me eternal detention because she was so ticked that I wasn't in Gryffindor Tower last night.  Ten o'clock curfew every night until she gives the say-so."

As they started down the hallway for their next class, Ron muttered under his breath, "Hermione is going to flip when she hears this."  

_Not as much as she would with the truth,_ Aeryn thought, trying unsuccessfully to draw a full breath.

*          *          *

"Look at this," Harry said, holding out a small, thin book to Aeryn and Hermione.

It was the beginning of February.  Hermione had just been released from the hospital wing, dewhiskered, tail-less, and fur-free.  On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry and Ron had cornered the two girls and tromped them up to their dormitory, their faces excited and their voices hushed with secrecy.

Aeryn looked curiously at the book.  "What is it?"

"It's a diary," Harry said.  "Ron and I found it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  Look, you can see on the front, it belongs to T.M. Riddle.  But why would anyone want to throw away a diary?" 

"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.

"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron.  "Maybe it's shy.  I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."

Aeryn took the diary from Hermione.  For some reason, it looked oddly familiar…with a shrug, she peeled the pages apart.  They were completely blank.  Frowning, she turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.

"To have bought a diary from Vauxhall Road…" she said musingly.

"I wish I knew why someone _did_ try to chuck it," said Harry.  "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."

Ron quickly explained that during his detention with Filch earlier in the school year, had polished a shield that T.M. Riddle had received as an award fifty years ago.  In the process, Ron had also burped slugs all over it, which explained why he remembered it so vividly.

"Could have been anything," said Ron.  "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid.  Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would've done everyone a favor…."

But Aeryn could tell from the arrested look on Harry's and Hermione's faces that they were thinking something completely different.

"What?" said Ron, looking at each of them.

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" Harry said.  "That's what Malfoy said."

"Yeah…" said Ron slowly.

"And _this diary_ is fifty years old," said Aeyrn, tapping the cover of the diary.

"So?"

"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione.  "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled _fifty years ago_.  We know T.M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school _fifty years ago_.  Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching _the Heir of Slytherin_?  His diary would probably tell us everything—where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it—the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"

"That's a _brilliant_ theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw.  _There's nothing written in his diary."_

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

"It might be invisible ink!" she whispered.  She tapped the diary three times and said, _"Aparecium!"  _Nothing happened.  Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said.  She rubbed it hard on _January first._  Nothing happened.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," said Ron.  "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."

Hermione did not agree with Ron's idea, but, as she and Ron began to excitedly argue, Aeryn ran a hand slowly down the cover of the diary.  It was no mistake, the book felt…odd.  The longer she mused over it, the odder this whole scenario seemed.  And there was a faint nagging in the back of her mind, like a presence that hung on the very edge of her consciousness.  She _had_ seen this diary before, or one very similar to it.  But where?  

"Ron, don't be an idiot!" Hermione snapped, jerking Aeryn out of her reverie.  

Aeryn rolled her eyes and handed the diary back to Harry.

She was probably just overreacting. 

*          *          *

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again.  Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful.  There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

The Gryffindor Four was whole once more.  Aeryn was thrilled to have Hermione back with her in the dormitory—although she had to be twice as careful now when she snuck out of Gryffindor Tower late at night to aid Professor Snape—and Ron was finally treating her like a normal human being again.  Harry, as always, seemed pleased to have all of his friends together and getting along, but Aeryn could tell the Heir of Slytherin business was starting to grate on him.  She couldn't blame him—especially when Peeves the Poltergeist kept popping up in the crowded corridors singing "Oh Potter, you rotter…" now with a dance routine to match.

Professor McGonagall's ten o'clock curfew had not stopped Aeryn from sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower.  Every day, she dutifully made her way to the Potions master's dungeons to prepare his antidote.  Even though it had only been a little over a month, Snape was becoming less and less dependent on the antidote.  He was now even able to remain in the same room when she mixed the ingredients.  Aeryn hoped that the day would soon come when he could prepare the antidote himself—or, even better, would be completely free of the Mead's influence.  Then, and only then, would she be able to dedicate her efforts to exposing Gilderoy Lockhart.

Exposing him, she was beginning to realize, was going to be easier said than done.  One evening when she had been preparing the antidote, Snape had burst into his chambers dripping with water.  

"Lockhart has been withholding the Mead from me," he answered in response to her questioning glance.  "I just got back from his office—he finally gave me another dose after I pleaded with him for nearly ten minutes—but he's becoming ruthless, Miss Blake."  The Potions master sat down by the fire, plucking a towel from the air and wiping his face.  "He's trying to punish me for protecting you—his exact words, if I remember correctly, were 'you've got to be taught who's in control of the situation, Sev old chap.'" He grimaced and banished the towel.  "He must know how much I detest being called 'Sev.'"

Aeryn carefully measured a spoonful of nightshade into the cauldron.  "Have you figured out when we're going to approach Dumbledore?" she asked, keeping her voice light as she trained her eyes on the mixture.

Snap was quiet for a long moment.  "No," he said finally.

Aeryn's fingers tightened around her spoon.  "I really don't understand why we just can't go to him now."  She very carefully unscrewed the bottle of spider bile.  "You're practically out of the withdrawal stage, aren't you?"

"That's not the point."  The Potions master sighed and shifted on the couch.  "Given the atmosphere of Hogwarts right now, it would be unsafe for me to disclose that you're a mutant."

Aeryn shook a handful of asphodel into the cauldron with a little more force than she had intended.

"Do you really want the school to find out you're a mutant now, after all these attacks on the students?" Snape asked in answer to her heated silence.  She heard him tap his fingers in a violent staccato against the arm of the couch.  

"But they don't have to find out," Aeryn said between gritted teeth.  "Can't we just tell Dumbledore in secret?"

"If Lockhart is to be prosecuted for what he's done, the Ministry will have to get involved."  Snape's voice was hard and brittle like over-tempered iron.  "Your true story will have to come out.  There's no way we could keep it a secret."

Aeryn tapped her spoon against the cauldron to shake loose some of the gloppy mixture and did not answer him.

"I suggest we wait until the culprit has been caught, and then go to Dumbledore," said Snape.  "By that time, I'll have found evidence that links Lockhart to what he's done."

Aeryn slammed the spoon on the coffee table top violently and turned to stare at the Potions master.  "You don't have any evidence?"

"Lockhart may act like an idiot, but he's no fool."  Snape looked intently into the fire.  "If I could be certain of catching him in the middle of brewing the Mead, or finding where he stores his supplies, then I would say we go to Dumbledore immediately."  He scowled slightly and folded his fingers together.  "But he's been very successful at covering his tracks up to this point.  At the moment, it's only his word against yours and mine."

"But—Lockhart—" She could hear the whine in her voice, and she drew in a sharp breath, struggling to keep herself under control.  "He keeps giving you doses of the Mead—can't you just take one to use as evidence?"  

Snape shook his head curtly.  "I'll need more evidence than that, Miss Blake."  A bitter smile flickered across his lips.  "I'm a master Potions brewer.  Although Dumbledore would swear on my honesty, Cornelius Fudge—the Minister of Magic—would gladly leap on the chance to accuse me of making the Mead to soil Lockhart's good name."

The bitterness that suddenly laced his voice at the mention of Cornelius Fudge perked Aeryn's ears.  "Why?" she asked curiously.

There was a long silence as Snape stared coldly into the center of the fireplace flames.  "Because Fudge would stand by and watch Hogwarts burn to the ground before he would ever lift a finger to aid me," he said finally, and a dull, dead chuckle rasped from his chest.

"But," Aeryn continued after a moment, "the rest of the Ministry—you're a Head of House, shouldn't that carry a bit more weight—"

"Head of House I may be, Miss Blake, but Lockhart, to all appearances, has committed no crime worse than wearing his God-awful robes."  Snape wearily pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  "And my track record has been far from pristine up to this point."

Aeryn couldn't believe what she was hearing.  "But I'm—"

"A mutant," Snape interrupted, "and I'm certain that will cleave the plausibility of your story in at least half."

A completely stunned Aeryn fell silent, and for a long moment, the snapping of the flames filled the room.  "So how are we going to get him for any of this, then?" she asked in a small voice.

"You let me worry about that."  Snape leaned forward and looked directly into Aeryn's eyes, his face more serious than Aeryn had ever seen it.  "What I want you to do is make certain that you are never alone in a room with him, and he never gets an opportunity to pull you away from a crowd.  If he does, I don't care what you do, attack him, cloud his mind so you turn invisible—but, for God's sake, _get away from him."_   

Amazed by his sudden concern, Aeryn could only gape at him.

With a swift, gentle motion, Snape reached forward and cupped Aeryn's face between his hands.  "It terrifies me what he might do to you," he whispered, "and I can't promise I'll be there to protect you next time."

It was on the tip of Aeryn's tongue to ask him again about that night, why he had been in the hallways, and the meaning of his cryptic phrase, _you were screaming inside my head._  He would have answered her, she was certain of it.  But she did not ask him.  After a long, long moment, the Potions master's hands slipped from her face and he settled back against the couch.

They had not spoken of Lockhart or Dumbledore since that evening.

*          *          *

"I _hate_ Valentine's Day," Aeryn grumbled as she, Ron, and Hermione walked to the Great Hall.  

"It is an odd holiday," Hermione agreed.  "Celebrating the death of an early Christian who refused to obey the ban on performing marriage ceremonies isn't exactly what I would call romantic.  But—" she perked up— "it's fun nonetheless!"

"I _hate_ it," Aeryn exclaimed.  "Mushy people and chocolates and cards and—_ugh!"_

"Buck up, 'Ryn," Ron said cheerfully.  "You don't want to disappoint Oliver Wood when he hands you a dozen red roses this morning, do you?"  He winced as her fist connected firmly with his arm.

As they entered the Great Hall, Aeryn thought, for a moment, that perhaps they'd walked through the wrong doors.  The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers.  Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling.  

"What is _this?"_  Ron gasped as they went over to the Gryffindor table.

Aeryn sat down in her chair with more force than she had intended.  "It's—_hideous,"_ she mumbled, looking up towards the staff table.  One look confirmed her worst fears.

"He _didn't—"_ she said weakly.

Ron followed her gaze up to the front of the room and blanched.  "Oh _no,"_ he groaned.

Hermione, who had been suddenly overcome with giggles, did not comment.

Harry suddenly appeared, his face openly etched with shock.  "What's going on?" he asked, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon.

Aeryn pointed to the teachers' table, too disgusted to speak.  Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence.  The teachers on either side of side of him were looking stony-faced.  From where she sat, Aeryn could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek.  Snape had the same look on his face as if he had forgotten to take his antidote for the Berserker's Mead.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted.  "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards!  Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all—and it doesn't end here!"

He clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs.  Not just any dwarfs, however.  Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" exclaimed Lockhart, beaming.  "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines!  And the fun doesn't stop here!  I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion!  Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion!  And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands.  Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"Please, girls, tell me you weren't two of the forty-six," begged Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson.  

"God, no," Aeryn exclaimed quickly, her skin crawling at the mere thought.

Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.

_How anyone could send that disgusting pervert a valentine_…Bile rose in her throat as she walked into the Herbology greenhouse.  But she firmly told herself that she was _happy_, even if it was her most hated day of the year, and that she would not let the thought of Lockhart get to her.  Besides, Snape's face at breakfast had been priceless.

"You love her, and she loves him," she sang softly to herself, tossing her bag onto her seat.  "And he loves somebody else—you just can't win…."

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers.  Harry was blitzed by a delivery as the Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms.  In the process of trying to flee the dwarf, Harry's bag had ripped open and had caused more commotion than he had intended.  Aeryn had tried very hard not to laugh at the sickeningly sweet verse that apparently had been from Ron's sister Ginny.  Neither Harry nor Ron was very happy during Charms—Malfoy had overheard the valentine and had made a snide remark to Ginny—but Aeryn couldn't help thinking that Ron's sister was very cute, although a little shy, and Harry could certainly do a lot worse.

Snape was looking murderous by the time the Gryffindors had Potions.  His thin lips were pinched tightly together and his coal-black eyes glittered menacingly as he paced the front of the classroom, running his wand between his fingers and glowering at the students.  Even some of the Slytherins were looking uncomfortable, but Aeryn was on the verge of laughter.  Finally, someone who enjoyed Valentine's Day as much as she.  

An unfortunate dwarf made the mistake of entering the dungeon halfway through Snape's lecture.  Snape turned on him with the cold fury of a blizzard, and the poor dwarf was reduced to a shaking, stumbling excuse of a singing valentine.  He escaped the classroom immediately after the delivery, which had been for Seamus Finnigan.  Once the winged monstrosity had fled, Snape quickly took five points from Gryffindor for the interruption, and the look on his face dared anyone to defy him.

The class was in the middle of preparing batches of Disillusionment Brew when the dungeon door was flung open and a second winged dwarf walked into the room, carrying his harp nonchalantly beneath his arm.

Aeryn had the distinct pleasure of watching Snape's face flush a dark red and his nostrils flare as he whirled to face the dwarf.  "WHAT?" the Potions master roared, the veins in his neck bulging. 

The dwarf held up his harp and twanged the strings menacingly.  "I've got a musical message to deliver to Aeryn Blake in person," he grunted, apparently unfazed by Snape's berserk look.

There was a clatter as Aeryn dropped a bottle of toad's blood.  

"Very well," Snape muttered through stiff lips.  "Get this nonsense over and done with."

The dwarf elbowed past the fuming Snape and walked over to Aeryn's side.  An underlying wave of murmurs swept the classroom, and she saw a pair of Slytherins elbowing each other knowingly.  She swallowed and lifted her chin, unable to look at Harry, Ron, or Hermione.  "Who's it from?" she asked, lacing her fingers tightly together behind her back.

"Can't tell ye that," the dwarf said matter-of-factly, and began to sing:

_"Her eyes are as blue as the Northernland seas,_

_This beautiful, graceful, entrancing young witch_

_She stole my heart with the greatest of ease_

_As if it were merely a Quidditch-game Snitch."_

A hot blush rose in Aeryn's cheeks as the class sniggered.  _Oliver Wood,_ she realized, and a relieved smile spread across her face.  "Th…thanks," she said weakly, and turned back to her cauldron accompanied by another wave of snickers.  But she didn't care…it was only Oliver, and it was rather sweet, only she had been expecting—

"Wait," the dwarf exclaimed.  "I got another one fer ye."

Aeryn's head snapped back around.  "What?" she asked.  She glanced quickly over at her friends, but they were merely grinning at her.  Her eyes flew to Snape, but he looked no more murderous than usual.

The dwarf strummed his harp and sang:

_"She's a pretty young thing with eyes like the sky_

_Her hourglass curves make me weak at the knees_

_One thing I will say, she's a fabulous lay_

_And she gives the best blow job you'll ever receive."_

Aeryn's breath stopped in her throat, and her cheeks cooled as the blood drained from them.  A shocked silence paralyzed the students, broken only by the awful harp-strumming as the dwarf continued his song:

_"She's just half my age, which is almost obscene_

_But still gets me hot when her luscious lips pucker _

_Just the thought of her thighs and my member will rise_

Like the curve of her back arches high when I f—" 

A loud shout broke through the music, and suddenly the dwarf was thrown backward against the wall in a blinding flash of purple light.  The winged messenger crumpled to the floor, completely knocked out.  Aeryn slowly turned to see Ron standing next to her, his face white with rage and his broken wand in his hand.  

The room was deathly quiet, and every eye was on Aeryn's face.  Her ears were ringing wildly with echoes of the dwarf's raunchy lyrics.  She stepped back against her cauldron and found that her hands were shaking violently.

"Mr. Weasley."

Professor Snape's clear voice cut through the silence, and the students' gazes rose immediately to him.  The Potions master's face was terrifyingly emotionless as he walked towards Ron, his black robes swirling menacingly around his ankles.  Aeryn heard Ron gulp as Snape stopped and glared blisteringly down at him. "Unauthorized magic-use in my classroom is strictly forbidden."  He looked disdainfully at Ron's wand, which was now ballooning large blue bubbles and whistling softly.  

"However," Snape continued in the same cold, clipped tone, "although there may be some who would eagerly listen to the titillating tidbits of Miss Blake's sexual exploits, I may honestly say that I do not number among them."  His coal-black eyes flickered once to Aeryn's face, and then back to Ron.  "No points shall be taken from Gryffindor."  With a regal wave of his hand, the Potions master turned on his heel and glided to the row of Slytherin cauldrons.  

Aeryn slowly gathered a handful of powdered lungwort in her trembling hands, trying not to spill too much.  She could feel a hard lump gathering in the base of her throat, and she swallowed, trying to dissolve it.  She tossed the lungwort into the cauldron, not caring that the mixture was not yet bubbling and would probably now be ruined.

She glanced over at Harry, but he did not look at her as he jerkily stirred his cauldron, his face pale beneath his dark hair and his lips tightly pressed together.

Snape suddenly appeared at his shoulder, black and looming like a malevolent panther.  He glanced into the boy's cauldron and shook his head curtly.  "Potter, your mixture is too lumpy," he growled, sweeping to Aeryn's cauldron without another glance.

He paused at her side and picked up a spoon.  "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

A snort erupted from the cauldron at her left.  "Fat lot you care," Ron muttered, throwing a newt tail into his mixture.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Weasley," Snape snapped without batting an eyelid.  He leaned forward and stirred the spoon through her potion.  "Miss Blake?" he asked again, his voice low.

"I'm fine," Aeryn said roughly, trying to keep the tears from her voice.

The Potions master straightened and put the spoon back on her ingredients tray.  "Your feverfew is not minced finely enough," he said in his disinterested professorial way.  Aeryn nodded, drawing a deep breath, and reached for a sprig of the herb.

His hand rested quickly on her shoulder and gave a firm squeeze.  "Be strong, my dear," he whispered, and then was off in a swirl of robes to the next cauldron.

*          *          *

Aeryn sat cross-legged on the bed, reading a note from Oliver Wood that accompanied the large box of fancy chocolates that had been delivered to her room.  She smiled slightly and laid the parchment on her bedside table.  

The second years were buzzing over the valentine she had received during Potions class, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been quick to spread their own story—that Aeryn had jilted the affections of an unnamed sixth year Slytherin, and he was now enacting his slimy form of revenge.  She had no doubt that the Slyths were outraged by this story, but at least it made the Gryffindors angry instead of suspicious.

She reached for a chocolate and—

"It's all over.  I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus.  They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."  

Aeryn jumped as if she had been stung.  She looked around the dormitory quickly.  It was empty—none of the second years went to bed until after ten o' clock—but she swore she could hear the faint echo of—

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone.  But monsters don't make good pets.  I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—"

This time Aeryn leapt from her bed, scattering the chocolates all across the scarlet cover.  She put a hand to her head, concentrating hard.  She _had_ heard something—and it was coming from—

_A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers—a tall boy with jet-black hair raised his wand—_

Aeryn threw herself towards the dormitory door and raced down the stairs to the common room.  She paused at the door, her chest heaving as she looked quickly around the clumps of students.  She saw Hermione curled over her textbooks, busy working on an essay for History of Magic—Ron was headed for the entrance boys dormitory—but Harry—

The black-haired boy raised his wand again, but a huge boy leaped on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling—

"Ron!"  

The red-haired boy paused, startled, as Aeryn ran up to him.  "Hey, Aeryn," he said.

Aeryn gulped for breath.  "Where's Harry?"

"I dunno," Ron said doubtfully.  "I think he's upstairs."

"I'm coming with you," Aeryn said firmly, following him up the stairway.  "I heard something."

Ron looked at her curiously, but didn't question her.

They reached the dormitory door and Ron pushed it open.  Aeryn stepped through and saw Harry lying spread-eagled on his four-poster, Riddle's diary lying open on his stomach.

"There you are," Ron said.

Harry sat up, and Aeryn immediately saw the sheen of sweat upon his brow.

"What's the matter?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

There was concern in Ron's eyes.  "What's up, Harry?"

"It was Hagrid," Harry said in a low, trembling voice.  He pushed a hand through his shaggy black hair, illuminating the lightning scar upon his forehead.  "Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:_**_  I hate Valentine's Day, too. [_


	29. Quit Me Quickly

**Chapter 29: Quit Me Quickly**

Aeryn's head was whirling.  She had always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures.  It was easy to believe that if, as a boy, Hagrid had heard that a monster was hidden somewhere in the castle, he probably would have thought it was a shame that the monster had been cooped up so long, and thought it deserved the chance to stretch its many legs.  Aeryn could just imagine the thirteen-year-old Hagrid trying to fit a leash and collar on it.  But she was equally certain that Hagrid would never have meant to kill anybody.

Ron and Hermione were equally confused, making Harry repeat his story over and over again until Aeryn could almost recite it by heart.  He had written in the diary, so he said, and the ink had been absorbed into the paper, almost as if he was speaking it, and then the diary started _writing itself, _as the collective memory of Tom Riddle.  Riddle had said the diary held terrible memories, even the secret of the Chamber of Secrets itself.

"Riddle _might_ have got the wrong person," said Hermione.  "Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people…."

"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked dully.

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry miserably.  "And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out.  Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award."

Aeryn did not speak.  She held the diary in her hands, running her fingers absently over the mundane cover.  There was something she didn't like about this whole matter, and it wasn't just because her friend Hagrid was being accused.  Hesitantly, she probed towards the diary with her mind, but was met with…_nothing.  _Not the nothing of an inanimate object, but the nothing as if a barrier had been thrown up before her mind, blocking out her thoughts.  She frowned.

Hagrid as the Heir of Slytherin…no, he couldn't be…but if he opened the Chamber, he would have had to be, but I'm almost certain he wasn't…no…and this Riddle fellow….

"Riddle _does _sound like Percy," Ron said.  "Who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?"

"But the monster had _killed _someone, Ron," said Hermione.

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts," said Harry.  "I don't blame him for wanting to stay here…."

_All the more reason for him to pin the blame on Hagrid, _Aeryn thought automatically, her fingertips digging into the thin spine of the diary.  _An easy target, the big, bumbling third year who has a tendency for trouble_….__

The four of them fell silent. 

"D'you think we should go and _ask _Hagrid about it all?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron.  "Hello, Hagrid.  Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?"

In the end, they decided that they would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, they became hopeful that they would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled.  It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, be it mutant or creature or wizard, had retired for good.

*          *          *

Aeryn quietly pushed open the door to the Potions master's private chambers.  A quick glance around the sitting room assured her that Snape was not there—still in class or at his office.  She disappeared into the adjourning room and emerged carrying the cauldron as the trail of ingredients danced in a floating line behind her.

She had just sat down in front of the coffee table and started mixing the ingredients when the heavy oaken door creaked open and Snape slipped in, accompanied by the soft rustle of his robes.

"Hi, Professor," Aeryn said absently, sprinkling a spoonful of asphodel into the cauldron.  She peered beneath the cauldron, checking that the magical flame was the correct height.

"You can stop preparing the mixture, Miss Blake."

The professor's words were so quiet that Aeryn automatically threw a newt tail into the mixture before she realized what he had said.  She laid down her spoon and turned to look at him.  His face was oddly calm, and Aeryn's heart gave a great leap in her chest.  What if—

"What is it?" she asked cautiously, trying to keep her voice even.  Her eyes followed the Potions master as he slowly walked across the room and sat down on one of the couches, his movements weary. 

Finally, he turned his head to look at her, and a small smile graced his lips.  "I don't need the antidote anymore."  He spread his hands as if he had just completed a parlor-trick.  "I stopped taking it yesterday, just to see how I would react, and I was fine.  I'm cured."

Aeryn stared at him.  A very faint buzzing began to ring in her ears.  "Oh," she choked finally.

Snape looked away from her, into the fire, and Aeryn drew a sharp, shaky breath.  All the pent-up memories from the past eight months swept over her in a rushing flood…all the late-night brewing sessions…the lies…the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that echoed with every footstep she had ever taken on the way to the Potions master's chambers…_It's all over, _she said to herself.

But that realization did not come with overwhelming joy, as she had expected it would, but…strangely…with _nothing_….__

With fingers that had suddenly become quite clumsy, Aeryn began to gather the oh-so-familiar bottles of ingredients.  The spider bile, nightshade, henbane, all floated away into the other room in a gently bobbing line to rest on the dark, quiet shelves.  Aeryn ran a hand across the back of her neck.  _It's over._

The coffee table was now clear.  Aeryn laced her fingers together and her eyes skittered nervously across the Potions master's face as she rose to her feet.  She cleared her throat awkwardly, the sound echoing loudly in the still air of the room.  "Have you found any evidence that links Lockhart…" Unable to finish the question through the lump in her throat, her voice trailed off hopefully.

Snape's mouth lips were compressed in a tight line.  He curtly shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the heart of the fire.  "There has been a new addendum to the Lockhart saga, Miss Blake."

Aeryn's hands instantaneously clenched into fists.

"It has nothing to do with you, so don't fret," the Potions master was quick to reassure her.

Aeryn swallowed with difficulty.  "So…what does it have to do with?"

Snape shrugged and slowly rose to his feet, a mixture of puzzlement and frustration beginning to etch his features.  "I can't prove that it's any more than a fleeting suspicion, really—but I've been trying to get into Lockhart's confidence now, hoping he will show me where he keeps his supplies for the Berserker's Mead."  He clasped his hands behind his back and paced towards the fireplace.  

"Certain details in our conversations have made me suspect," he said, his voice dropping until Aeryn had to strain to hear him, "that Lockhart…however ludicrous it sounds…may somehow be behind the attacks on the school."

Knowing what she already knew about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Aeryn would not have been surprised if Snape had told her that Lockhart was actually Voldemort in disguise.  She bit her lip and frowned, noticing the taut muscles and the frustrated frown of the Potions master.  Something…a memory…something vague and indistinct began stirring in her mind…Lockhart…she could almost remember…or _suspect_….__

"Are you serious?" she asked after a moment.

Snape dragged a long finger along a deep whorl on the mantel.  "Nothing is concrete, you understand—merely a few chance phrases and some inflected words—but I can't shake off this suspicion."  His coal-black eyes turned towards her, unreadable as ever.  "If he's not linked, we'll find out soon enough—but if he is, I don't want to accuse him and arouse a wrath that he'll turn against the school."  He ran a hand through his oily black hair, the gesture taut and jerky.  "The accusation will have to wait until I can determine a course of action."

_He's backing out on telling Dumbledore.  _A dull, sickening ache thudded in Aeryn's stomach as though a baseball bat had smacked her.  She should have known.  The knot in her throat constricted, and she shrugged lightly.  "I understand."  A small smile tugged her lips. "After all…there might be an attack at any time.  It's important to…" She could hear the quaver creeping into her voice, and she fought it back, tossing her head carelessly, "…make sure that the students…are safe…"

The words were sour in her throat and quickly trailed off.  She turned her head away so he would not see the gathering tears in her eyes.  Once again, she'd thought there was a chance for the nightmare to finally be over, only to have it snatched from her….

Snape's hand fell gently on her shoulder.  "I am not going back on our bargain, Miss Blake."  His voice was quiet. "Merely postponing it."  His fingers curled reassuringly against her shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze.  "I will still tell the Headmaster—and the Ministry—my entire guilt in the previous matter."

Aeryn sucked in a breath and batted a clinging tear from her eye.  _I shouldn't believe him, _she thought quickly, but the uncommon warmth in his words swiftly dampened the anger in her heart that had grown strangely cool.  As much as she wanted to run to Dumbledore and tell him the entire story, to put this horror behind her, she realized the Potions master had a point.  Whether Snape was lying or not about his suspicion towards Lockhart, the attacks upon the school—and the Chamber of Secrets—were of utmost importance.  The culprit—the _true _culprit—had to be caught soon, before someone innocent was accused.

_Poor Hagrid._

She exhaled slowly and turned to face the Potions master.  He was standing very close to her, and as always, she had to tilt her head backwards to look up at him.  The fevered flush that had for so long stained his cheeks had fled, returning his skin to its normal sallow color.  His breathing no longer rasped in his chest like sandpaper, and his oily hair was free from sweat.

Their eyes locked, and for a long moment they stared at each other.  Aeryn was suddenly aware of the bags beneath the professor's eyes, and the fine wrinkles edging his features.  She could feel a bead of drying sweat on her upper lip, and she was acutely conscious of a strand of hair that had fallen across her face to tickle her nose.  A thousand questions zipped through her mind, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him, to say…

Finally, she held out her hand to him, not knowing what else to do.  

"See you in Potions, Professor," she said quietly.

Snape stretched out a hand and gently clasped hers.  His fingers were warm, and Aeryn was surprised at the smoothness of his skin.  He had an acid-stain on his index finger.

"See you in Potions, Miss Blake," he murmured, his coal-black eyes bright.

Aeryn gently stepped away from him and headed from his chambers without a backward glance.

*          *          *

"It's your move, Aeryn," Anna said.

Her words jerked the older girl out of her reverie, and Aeryn sat forward in her chair, trying to focus her mind on the game of Jump-In Uno she, Anna Dubois, Maria Rosseter, and several other fifth-year girls were playing.  But as she absently threw a yellow six on the discard pile, her mind immediately began to wander.

It was the week after the Easter holidays, and now that she was no longer bound to the daily trip to Snape's chambers to prepare the antidote, Aeryn's thoughts had been free to wonder about the odd circumstances surrounding T.M. Riddle's diary and the Chamber of Secrets—and, more importantly, her new-discovered distrust towards Lockhart and his suspected involvement. 

She was unable to ignore the comment that Snape had made during her last trip to his chambers.  No matter how ludicrous anyone else might find it—and they _would_, for on the outside there was no obvious reason why the seemingly benign Lockhart would jeopardize his position with such an involvement—the Potions master's words rang true in her ears.  After all, he and she knew better than anyone else the capability for mischief that lurked behind the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's handsome façade.  

"Aeryn?"  Persephone Nero's voice jerked her back to the present.  "Wake up, girl," the fifth-year said teasingly as Aeryn quickly tossed a card on the discard pile.  

And then there was the diary.  No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't swallow the notion that Hagrid was the Heir of Slytherin.  Aeryn bit her lip and fiddled with the cards in her hand.  Something was not right with the whole scenario, and the more she thought about it, the more she felt the need to talk to Tom Riddle.  

She had asked Harry a few days ago, just as a passing question, if she could see the diary and write a few things in it.  Of course, Harry had wanted to know _why _she needed to speak with Riddle, and Aeryn had quickly steered the conversation away from the potentially volatile subject.  If she told him her suspicions against Lockhart, then she would have to tell him the entire story, and then…

_But I can't ask Hagrid about it, I'm absolutely certain he wouldn't tell me, _she thought, chewing on her lower lip.  _And the only person that would is locked up in a fifty-year old diary…_

"Earth to Aeryn!" 

Aeyrn looked up from her cards and noticed all the fifth-year girls staring at her.  "The game's over," Melissa Michalizek said, riffling the cards in her left hand.  "What's up?  You're totally not with us."

_I'm sure not.  _Aeryn tossed her cards onto the table and stood up.  "You know, I'm really not adding much to this right now," she said with an apologetic smile.  "You guys have fun."

"Suit yourself," Melissa said, shrugging.

Aeryn headed for the staircase to the dormitory as the other girls began another game.  _Maybe if I get some sleep, _she thought to herself, trudging up the stairs.  _Sure, it's Friday night, but still, there's a Quidditch match tomorrow and maybe after I've rested—_

She halted on the stairs as if she had been stung as a thought ripped through her brain.  Slowly, Aeryn looked around her.  She was standing on the fork in the staircase that split off, one way leading to the boys' dormitory, the other to the girls' dormitory.  For a very long moment, Aeryn stood where she was, looking up the two staircases.  Then she very carefully and quietly turned towards the left and started up the stairway to the left—the boys' dormitory.

The doorway to the second year dormitory was open, and Aeryn, guilt churning her stomach, gingerly peeked her head into the room.  It was deserted—everyone was either at Quidditch practice or in the common room.  Before she could lose her nerve, Aeryn slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind her.  Her eyes flashed around the room and located Harry's four-poster—the unmade one with the scarlet-and-gold Quidditch robes hastily tossed atop the rumpled covers.

_I'm only going to look for it, _she told herself firmly, making a beeline for the trunk at the foot of the bed.  She probed quickly into the lock and tripped open the lid of his trunk.  _I'm not going to do anything to it, I just want to make sure where it is, just in case I ever want to find it.  _Harry's trunk was full to the brim with his schoolbooks, assorted robes, and various other objects.  Aeryn sifted her hand through the mess, her brow furrowing as she lifted a shimmering, silver cape that spilled through her fingers like water.  Very carefully, she gathered the material and laid it on the floor next to her.

_He sure keeps it in a safe place, _she thought, beginning to remove things from the trunk and placing them around her, making sure to notice where they had been.  _Of course, that's the point, so people can't find it_….__

She lifted Harry's copy of _Gadding with Ghouls _and found Riddle's diary beneath it.  Compared to the glossy, brightly colored cover of Lockhart's book, Riddle's diary looked shabby and inconsequential, like a birthday present from your Aunt Mildred who hasn't seen you for seven years but continues to send you gifts.   Aeryn carefully lifted the diary from its resting place, nearly jumping at the _blank _feel as her fingers grazed the faded cover.  She placed the book in her lap and began to place Harry's things back into his trunk.  If she did it correctly, then he would never know anything was missing, and then she could return Riddle's diary later without him ever knowing that it was gone—

There was a sudden clatter on the staircase.

Instantly, Aeryn was on her feet, spilling the objects in her hands all over the floor.  For a second she froze, hoping that the sound had just been her imagination, but as she heard a distant sound of footsteps coming towards her, she panicked.  Riddle's diary flew into her hand and she bolted for the door, throwing an illusion of invisibility over herself.  There was nothing she could do about Harry's things—hopefully he wouldn't notice—

She raced down the stairs and very nearly collided with Neville Longbottom at the fork of the staircase.  At the last second she levitated herself to the ceiling, breathing a prayer of thanks for her invisibility as the second year passed beneath her, totally oblivious to her presence.  Once the boy had disappeared up the stairs, Aeryn dropped back to the ground and turned right around, running up the right-hand staircase until she reached the second year girls' dormitory.

_What am I doing? _she asked herself frantically as she dropped to her knees beside her trunk, flipping open the lid with ease.  A thin sheet of sweat beaded her brow as she shoved Riddle's diary tightly into a corner and pushed five of her robes atop it.  _I shouldn't be doing this, he's my friend…_but she firmly shut her trunk and locked it with sure fingers before she even knew what she was doing.

Her ears were buzzing slightly as she shakily sat down on her four-poster and settled back against the pillows.  Her body felt very light, and she wasn't certain whether she should scream, cry, or laugh hysterically.  She had just broken into her friend's personal things and taken a magical diary that she wasn't certain was friend or foe.  The whole situation rang of a Moliére farce.

I can't do this.

She was on the verge of sitting up, grabbing Riddle's diary out from her trunk, and marching back to Harry's room with an explanation when the door of the dormitory opened and Hermione, Ron, and Harry burst into the room.

"Aeryn!" Hermione gasped in a horrified whisper. "Someone took Riddle's diary!"

Aeryn's heart dropped like a stone.  "What?" she croaked, pushing herself up from the pillows.

Harry sat down next to her on the bed.  "My room—it's trashed—" He waved his hands helplessly in the air.  "I've looked everywhere, but it's gone. Someone took it."

Aeryn tried to look aghast.  "But—" she sputtered after a moment, shame burning her cheeks, "only a Gryffindor could have stolen—nobody else knows our password—"

"Exactly," said Harry, his face serious.

All of a sudden, Aeryn felt very, very sick.

*          *          *

Aeryn stared down at her still-full plate at breakfast the next morning, guilt wracking her stomach until the smell of her scrambled eggs made her queasy.  It was a beautiful morning, clear and cool and perfect for Quidditch, but Aeryn was in no mood to watch the game.  Out of the corner of her eye, she nervously regarded Harry as he peered down the row of Gryffindors, his face screwed up in concentration as he scanned the students, apparently looking to see _which one _might have taken Riddle's diary.

She had been unable to open Riddle's diary last night after she went to bed.  Twice, she had nearly been ready to run down the staircase, knock on the boys' dormitory, and give Harry back the diary with a rushed explanation.  But the thought of Lockhart's vicious leer reined her back.  The diary was currently sitting beneath the mattress of her unmade bed.

Breakfast was soon over, and she left with Harry, Ron, and Hermione to go and collect Harry's Quidditch things.  But the second she placed her foot on the white marble staircase, Harry suddenly shouted aloud.  The other three jumped away from him in alarm.

"The voice!" said Harry, looking over his shoulder.  "I just heard it again—didn't you?"

Aeryn looked at Harry strangely while Ron shook his head, wide-eyed.  

"Aeryn, can't you hear it?"  Harry asked frantically, "I mean—with your powers—"

"Uh—" Aeryn answered, slightly confused.

Hermione suddenly clapped a hand to her forehead.  "Harry—I think I've just understood something!  I've got to go to the library!"

And she sprinted away, up the stairs.

_"What _does she understand?" Aeryn asked distractedly.  She closed her eyes quickly and probed out with her mind.  Staircase—through the corridors—through the _walls—_

"Loads more than I do," said Ron.

—there was something there, she was certain, but she _couldn't_—

"But why's she got to go to the library?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged and accidentally knocked Aeryn with his arm.  Startled, she opened her eyes, and the presence slipped from her grasp.  

"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron.  "When in doubt, go to the library."

Harry looked at Aeryn.  "Can't you hear _anything?" _he asked hopefully.

Aeryn probed out again with her mind, but it was too late.  The presence had fled.  She glanced over at Harry and shook her head.

"You'd better get moving, Harry," Ron said.  "It's nearly eleven—the match—"

Harry looked as if he would rather disagree, but he nodded and sprinted up the steps towards Gryffindor Tower.  Aeryn watched him go, her brow furrowing in frustration.  There was something there—she was _so close—_but—

"Come on, 'Ryn," Ron said, tapping her on the shoulder.  "All the good seats might not be taken yet."

Reluctantly, Aeryn followed Ron out to the Quidditch field.  The stadium was emblazoned with scarlet and gold on the Gryffindor side, and black and yellow for the Hufflepuffs.  Ron and Aeryn made their way up the stands and sat down.

"Where's Hermione?" asked Aeryn, looking around her.  The brown-haired girl was nowhere to be seen.

"Don't worry, she'll be here," Ron said, leaning back in his seat and fixing his eyes on the field.  "She wouldn't dare miss a Quidditch match."

The teams walked onto the field and Aeryn clapped halfheartedly, unable to get the presence of the—_something—_out of her mind.  Hermione, apparently, understood clearly what was going on, which was more than Aeryn could say for herself.  She was _so close…_but along with the frustration came an ounce of trepidation.  Whenever Harry heard the voice in the walls, it was never followed by something good… .

Suddenly Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running across the field, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

"The match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone.  A protesting roar arose from the Quidditch fans, both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and the Quidditch teams stared at the deputy headmistress as if she had suddenly grown two heads.  Even from her vantage point in the stands, Aeryn could see the frantic look on Oliver Wood's face.  

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information," Professor McGonagall shouted over the ruckus.  "As quickly as you can, please!"

As she lowered the megaphone, the students began to buzz unhappily amongst themselves.  Professor Vector and Professor Sprout appeared to herd the students from their seats, and the crowd grudgingly began to siphon from the stadium.

"They _cancelled _the match?" Ron exclaimed as they rose from their seats.  "But—the cup—"

Aeryn stared out onto the Quidditch field, trying not to be pushed over as students walking by jostled her.  Professor McGonagall had beckoned Harry over to her side.  "She's talking to Harry—"

Their gazes locked and Aeryn read in Ron's eyes the same sudden alarm that coursed through her veins.  As one, they detached themselves from the crowd and hurried over to Harry and Professor McGonagall, who had set off towards the castle.

The deputy headmistress turned around as Aeryn and Ron came running up towards them.  Her features, taut with tension, relaxed slightly at the worried look on their faces.  "Yes…perhaps you'd better come too…."

With a sickening feeling growing in her stomach, Aeryn followed Harry, Ron and followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase.  But they weren't taken to anybody's office this time.

"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary.  "There has been another attack…another _double attack."_

She pushed the infirmary door open, and Aeryn bit back the agonized scream that rose in her throat.  Madam Pomfrey was bending over a fifth-year girl with long, curly hair, and on the bed next to her was—

_"Hermione!" Ron groaned._

Blood thundered in Aeryn's ears, and she opened her mouth to protest, that this couldn't be happening, _not to her friends, not to Hermione, but the only sound that passed her lips was a low, anguished moan._

"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall.  "I don't suppose any of you can explain this?  It was on the floor next to them…" She held up a small, circular mirror.

Numb with shock, Aeryn could only stare at Hermione's motionless figure on the bed.  Her open eyes were glassy, like the lifeless eyes of a mannequin.

"I will escort you three back to Gryffindor Tower," said Professor McGonagall heavily.  "I need to address the students in any case."

*          *          *

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening.  No student is to leave the dormitories after that time.  You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher.  No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher.  All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed.  There will be no more evening activities."

Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and said in a somewhat choked voice.  "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed.  It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught.  I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.  Lee Jordan leapt atop a chair and began railing against the Slytherins to the assembled Gryffindors like an irate Enjoras addressing his student revolutionaries, but Aeryn barely heard him.  Her ears were still ringing with shock.   How could this have happened—to _Hermione, of all people?  And Hogwarts…_

_"It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught."_

Hogwarts closing?  Aeryn shut her eyes at the thought.  If the school closed, she had nowhere else to go—save back to Little Whinging, back to the mundane day-to-day task of cleaning houses, back to the ever-present growing hatred against the mutants…and not even just her, but _Harry, he would be forced back into the clutches of the Dursleys if the school folded._

_Tom Riddle had turned in Hagrid because he was faced with the prospect of a Muggle orphanage if the school closed…._

Her fists clenched against the denim of her jeans reflexively as the unhappy Gryffindors began to mill about the common room, pacing the floor like caged lions at the zoo.

She had to talk to the diary.

"Aeryn."  

Harry stood at her shoulder, his jade-green eyes startling in his white face.  Aeryn quickly scooted over and let the boys sit next to her at the table.  Harry leaned towards her, keeping his voice low.  "We've got to visit Hagrid tonight, find out what we can about the creature."

"You're coming with us, right?" Ron asked.  His words were taut with concern.

Slowly, Aeryn shook her head.  "No, I…I can't."  As Harry and Ron's faces twisted in sudden protest, she quickly leaned forward and put her hands over their mouths before they could say a word.  

"Two people _might be able to sneak out of Gryffindor Tower, but three would definitely be pushing it, even without the tightened security," she murmured.  She dropped her hands from their lips but kept her serious gaze fixed on them, and they remained quiet.  "You guys go.  Let me know what you find out—I'll be waiting for you in the common room when you get back."_

"But—" Harry began.

"Just go," Aeryn said quietly, and the boys did not press the matter further.

*          *          *

In the silence of the deserted common room, Aeryn placed an eagle quill and a bottle of ink on the table next to T. M. Riddle's diary.  She had gone to bed at the usual time, waited until the second year girls had stopped discussing the Chamber of Secrets and finally fallen asleep, and then quietly slipped the diary from beneath her mattress and headed to the common room.

She looked around the room, her eyes flickering over the shadows half-shrouding the familiar chairs and tables, molding them into misty objects of a midnight ghost story.  Her palms were sweating, and she wiped them on the sides of her nightdress.

Carefully, she cracked the diary open to the first page.  _January 1 was written across the top of the paper, but other than that, the leaf was smooth and white as if it had never been touched.  Aeryn ran a finger hesitantly down the blank page and shuddered slightly as she met…__nothing.  The same unnatural, tangible blankness that she had felt before._

For a long moment, she sat there unmoving, staring fiercely at the diary as if her gaze could penetrate the blank leaves and see the memory of the fifty-years gone Tom Riddle.  Then she drew a deep breath and picked up her eagle quill.  She dipped the nib into the ink and swiftly wrote on the first page: 

Well met, Tom Riddle. 

Her pen hovered over the words after she had written them.  The words shone momentarily on the page and then, as though they were being sucked into the page, vanished.  Aeryn held her breath, waiting for a response.   

Suddenly, words Aeryn had never seen before oozed up across the page.

"How intriguing.  Your handwriting is unfamiliar…feminine…somewhat older than a schoolgirl's awkward scrawl…I don't believe I've ever read your writing before, yet you know my name.  Who are you?"

These words faded away into nothingness, and Aeryn let out the breath she had been holding.  Quickly, she loaded her quill and scribbled back:

_My name is Aeryn Blake._

_"Ah, Harry Potter's friend,"_ the diary wrote back. _"He has spoken of you."_

Aeryn hadn't been expecting that.  Harry had spoken to Tom of her?  She bit her lip, wondering exactly how much Harry had told the diary about her, and paused, trying to find the words to best approach the unseeable being.  _I'm glad to hear that, _she wrote finally.  _It's very nice to meet you, Tom._

_"The feeling is mutual."_For the first time, as she pressed her fingertips to the paper, Aeryn could feel a faint trace of—something—indistinct, but there, as if from a presence far, far away.  _"Tell me, Aeryn—pronounced 'Erin,' am I correct?  I am quite intrigued as to how you came across my journal.  Last I remember Harry was in possession of me."****_

_I asked to borrow you,_ Aeryn wrote, the premeditated words flowing from her pen with a practiced ease.  _The thought of delving into the mind-recesses of someone from fifty years ago seemed too absorbing a prospect to pass up.  I've always been interested in sociology._

The diary was quiet for a moment, and then ink spilled across the blank page with surprising speed.  _"Those are very pretty words, Aeryn, but for some reason I don't quite believe them."  _

Aeryn stopped breathing.

_"Let us dispense with these clumsy, pseudo-polite fumblings at niceties.  You are writing to me because I know about the Chamber of Secrets."_

_No, I don't,_ Aeryn began, alarmed, but as she wrote the words, ink began to flow from the diary beneath her fingers and across the page.

"Aeryn, Aeryn, Aeryn, do you think me as two-dimensional as this paper?  Rest assured that I am far from insulted that the Chamber of Secrets would be the reason you wish to speak to me—that is the reason I locked my memory in this diary, so I could preserve the events of what happened so future generations could learn from the sad tales of the past.  Unless we learn from our mistakes, history is doomed to repeat itself."  

Tom Riddle's words paused, and then continued with cold, clipped strokes.  _"But I do not like falsehoods, Aeryn.  Next time, it would be best if you told me your intentions directly."****_

Aeryn chewed on her lower lip.  This was going to be harder than she had expected.  She tossed her head, shaking the hair from her face, and curled forward over the diary.  _You're quite astute, Tom.  Yes, I want to know about the Chamber of Secrets._

_"I already showed Harry the events leading up to the eventual capture and expulsion of the culprit."_

Aeryn's fingers spasmed against her eagle quill, and it was a second before she could write the words.

_Rubeus Hagrid.  _

_"Your handwriting is extremely tense, Aeryn."_Riddle's words flowed across the page, light and quick_.  "Your loops are tight and tiny, and you press down hard on the paper with your quill.  Something is bothering you."****_

Aeryn gritted her teeth as anger welled up in the back of her throat.  But she swallowed and moved her quill across the page.  _Forgive me for being naïve or easily misled, Tom, but for some reason I can't believe Hagrid would do such a terrible thing as unleash the creature of the Chamber upon Hogwarts.  He's rough-cut, not ruthless._

_"The bumbling gamekeeper cannot be the only reason for the tautness in your handwriting,"_ responded the diary.  _"You are either under extreme duress or you naturally enjoy gripping writing utensils so tightly that your hand seizes up.  Talk to me, Aeryn.  What inner turmoil wracks you?"_

The image of Hermione lying motionless on the infirmary bed sprang into Aeryn's mind, and she held back the tears that leapt unbidden behind her eyes.  _A good friend of mine was attacked this afternoon, Tom, _she wrote, trying to keep her quill steady.  _I'm more than a little distraught._

_"I am truly sorry to hear that, Aeryn."_

Aeryn wasn't sure whether or not to believe his sincerity, but for the sake of the game, she wrote: _Thank you.  The problem is hitting closer to home than I ever would care for it to._

_"Of course.  It is always difficult to see terrible things happen to our close friends."  _There was a break and the words sunk back into the paper, and for a second, Aeryn was afraid that Riddle had decided to stop speaking to her.  She quickly dipped her quill in the ink and was on the verge of asking him to come back when new words arose on the page, starkly vibrant against the white paper.  _"Harry has mentioned that—feeling helpless when his friends are in some sort of trouble—for some reason, Aeryn, I believe he was speaking of you.  To what was he referring?"_

Aeryn's hand rested against the page and a sudden surge of raw emotion flowed through her as the words spread across the page.  She jerked her skin away from the diary as if she had been burned and stared down at the now-blank paper.  It had been craving, Tom's desire for—_something_—a feeling so intense that it made her skin crawl.  Awkwardly, trying not to touch the diary, Aeryn started to write again.  _Tom, I don't really want to—_

_"Please indulge me, Aeryn."_  The intrigue, the desire to know was more subdued, but still there, tangible in his sinuous words.  _"I've been mouldering in a box for fifty years—and it's been such a long time since I last spoke with a girl."_

She had to get away from this dangerous ground.  _Tom, may we discuss the Chamber of Secrets?_

Her words faded into the paper of the diary, and the sheet was blank save for the _January 1_ atop the page.  Aeryn waited, but Riddle did not respond.  She slumped back against her chair and winced, feeling for the first time the knotted muscles beneath her shoulders.  

"Methinks the diary doth protest too much," she muttered through clenched teeth, and her fingers tightened against the quill yet again.  If this was the only way she could get him to speak with her, then so be it.  

_This school year has not been very easy for me.  As she wrote the words, she wondered again how much Harry had told Riddle.  A lot of things happened here at Hogwarts that I hadn't been expecting._

Riddle's answer spilled immediately over the page_.  "Friend troubles?  Teacher troubles?"_

_You might say that._

_"Please enlighten me."_

Eagerness spread through her fingers resting against the page, and Aeryn suppressed a shudder.  Something was wrong with this—he was too keen, too desirous for her to tell him…a small prickling of alarm stirred the hairs on the back of her neck, but Aeryn pushed the thoughts away and forced her quill to move._  The Potions master—Professor Snape—he and I tend to have extreme conflicts of interest.  It has not been an easy road._

"The understatement of the century," Aeryn whispered to herself.

_"I understand completely," _Riddle replied._ " The Arithmancy professor during my time never seemed to entertain my point of view, and I spent many a long night arguing my marks to the place where they should be."_

Aeryn sourly wondered whether Perfect Prefect Tommy had ever received a mark lower than an A-minus.  She bit back the words she wanted to say and bent her mind around the task at hand._  But enough about my life, _she wrote, trying to keep her quill strokes light._  What about—_

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open suddenly, and Aeryn's hand flew up from the diary, splattering ink everywhere.  Frantically, she tossed a hasty illusion across the tabletop, slamming the diary shut and shoving it down the front of her nightdress.  An instant later, a silver cloak flashed in the half-lit common room, and Harry and Ron appeared in the entrance to the common room.

As they crawled through the portrait-hole, the look on both their faces made Aeryn's heart stop in her chest.  "What's up?" she asked, rising to her feet.

Harry stumbled over to where she sat.  "Hagrid's been taken to Azkaban," he said hoarsely.

His words hit Aeryn in the stomach like a sledgehammer.  "No," she whispered, sinking back into her chair.  "You can't be serious—he _can't have done it—"_

Harry buried his face in his hands.  "We were watching from the corner, beneath my Invisibility Cloak."  His words were muffled, and Aeryn could feel him struggle to keep his voice even.  "Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, had orders to take Hagrid into custody—"

Aeryn's heart twisted sideways in her chest.  "But…"

"And Dumbledore's been taken away," Ron murmured.

For a moment, Aeryn thought she had heard the boy's words incorrectly.  She turned and stared at him disbelievingly, feeling a horrible coldness siphoning through her blood.  "What?" she choked finally.

Ron's eyes were hollow as he sunk into the seat next to Aeryn.  "An Order of Suspension—the governors, all twelve of them voted to suspend him—" He cleared his throat, and the sound rattled in the silent air.  "Said he had failed to stop the attacks—"

Aeryn pressed her hands to her mouth, holding back the horrified scream welling in her throat.   In the back of her mind she could hear the Potions master's cold, detached voice:  _The accusation will have to wait until I have determined a suitable course of action,_ but now the Headmaster was gone, and there was no suitable course of action, no way to resolve the matter, and now— 

"No," she moaned.  "No, no, no, _no."_

"They may as well close the school tonight," said Harry, running a hand through his jet-black hair.  "There'll be an attack a day with him gone."

_You cannot quit me so quickly…._

An image of Gilderoy Lockhart grinning evilly before her in the flickering lamplight filled Aeryn's head with startling life, and a mournful ringing echoed in her ears as a slow, deadly terror began to leach through her body.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_Any references to 'quit me quickly' or the like are taken from the Dave Matthew's Band song 'The Space Between.'  No, your eyes are not deceiving you; the exchange between Tom Riddle and Aeryn is loosely modeled from the Clarice/Lecter relationship in 'The Silence of the Lambs.'  Great movie, but you should read the book if you want a real scare.  You should also learn how to play Jump-In Uno…once you try it, you'll never go back._


	30. Crystal Ball

Chapter 30:  Crystal Ball 

Harry, Ron, and Aeryn had tried to visit Hermione, but visitors were now barred from the hospital wing.

"We're taking no more chances," Madam Pomfrey told them severely through a crack in the infirmary door.  "No, I'm sorry, there's every chance the attacker might come back to finish these people off."

With Dumbledore gone, fear had spread as never before, so that the sun warming the castle walls outside seemed to stop at the mullioned windows.  There was barely a face to be seen in the school that didn't look worried and tense, and any laughter that rang through the corridors sounded shrill and unnatural and was quickly stifled.  

Now Aeryn had to watch her step even more carefully.  The tension in the school allowed no sympathy for those who were different.  It was pureblood against common-born, one side or the other, and each student regarded the others in underlying fear, searching for the slightest difference, something that would mark that person as the Heir of Slytherin.  Aeryn had no doubt that if her secret was disclosed, she would be given—no pun intended—a veritable witch-trial.  

The news from the Daily Prophet did nothing to calm her fear.  Nearly every day, the paper screamed the terrifying news from the Muggle and wizarding worlds alike.  Attacks from rogue mutants, bent on destruction of the 'less advanced species' and furious about the restrictions placed upon them, were a very real and present danger.  Angry letters burned on the editorial page, passionately extolling the need for mutant registration and anti-mutant collars, like those that had been made legal in the United States—and England—and France—and—

But it wasn't even so much her mutation, the attacker, or the Chamber of Secrets that worried Aeryn, though she maintained the façade that the latter two threats were the cause of her anxiety to keep others from becoming suspicious.  It was the thought of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that woke her up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath and a cold sweat running down her back.  He terrified her, especially now with Dumbledore gone.  Fortunately, thanks to Professor McGonagall's ultimatum that no student could wander Hogwarts alone, she had been able to avoid him as best she could.   

The ultimatum, however, was not enough to keep Lockhart's leering eyes off of her.  She could always feel him watching, his forget-me-not blue eyes burning across her form when she walked to the board to write sentences or bent over her parchment to scribble notes.  Even in the hallways, when she traveled with the pride of Gryffindors from class to class, he would grin knowingly at her as they crossed paths, sending cold shudders down her spine.  

One afternoon he escorted the class to Potions, and she was the last to enter the classroom.  Aeryn stepped quickly into the dungeon, but not before his hand slithered down her back and snapped her bra.  She was trembling so violently when she got to her desk that when she sat down she almost missed the chair.

She could have told Snape her worries, of course, but in the days following the departure of Dumbledore, the Potions master had become increasingly unapproachable.  With Dumbledore's disappearance, Aeryn's hold on their bargain had disappeared.  There was no headmaster for her to run to, for she had no idea how Professor McGonagall would react to her disclosure, and thus the Potions master had no need to worry.

Snape realized this too, she was certain of it.  He had taken to strutting around the dungeons with an ever-present smirk that made Aeryn sick to her stomach, especially after he harangued Neville Longbottom for omitting snakeskin in his Sneeze-Inducing Potion and reduced the second year to tears.

His Slytherins were no less smug, and Draco Malfoy was the worst of them all.  He paraded around the school as though he had just been appointed Head Boy.  Aeryn didn't realize what he was so pleased about until the Potions lesson about two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid had left, when, sitting right behind Malfoy, Aeryn overheard him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle. 

"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," he said, not troubling to keep his voice down.  "I told you he thinks Dumbledore's the worst headmaster the school's ever had.  Maybe we'll get a decent headmaster now.  Someone who won't want the Chamber of Secrets closed.  McGonagall won't last long, she's only filling in…."

Snape swept past Aeryn in a swirl of black robes, making no comment about Hermione's empty seat and cauldron. 

_Don't let him get to you,_ she told herself, puffing out her cheeks and running a hand through her hair.  The small of her back ached.  The bell would ring at any second, and she could leave, wouldn't have to deal with Malfoy or Snape until tomorrow….

"Sir," said Malfoy loudly.  "Sir, why don't _you_ apply for the headmaster's job?"

"Now, now, Malfoy," said Snape in his disinterested professorial way that was dampened only by the small glint in his coal-black eyes.  A thin-lipped smile twitched his lips.  "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors.  I daresay he'll be back with us soon enough."

"Yeah, right," said Malfoy, smirking.  "I expect you'd have Father's vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job—_I'll_ tell Father you're the best teacher here, sir—"

The muscles in Aeryn's back were taut as she flung a handful of toadstools into her cauldron.  She could still see Hermione, lying glassy-eyed and unmoving on her hospital bed, and she had to bite her lip hard to keep her vision clear.  

Snape smirked as he swept off around the dungeon, fortunately not spotting Seamus Finnigan, who was pretending to vomit into his cauldron.  Aeryn gritted her teeth and stirred her concoction.  

Don't let him get to you.

"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," Malfoy went on.  "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies.  Pity it wasn't Granger—"

A red miasma swiftly swam before Aeryn's eyes, and before anyone could stop her, she leapt upon Malfoy, pummeling him as hard as she could with her fists.  The entire class erupted into chaos.  Hands roughly grabbed her shoulders and, with difficulty, pulled her away from the second year, whose shocked face had gone as pale as paper.

"How dare you, you little _bastard!"_ Aeryn shrieked, straining against the hands holding her back.  She noticed, with some satisfaction, that blood was pouring from Malfoy's nose.  "'Pity it wasn't Granger,' you _motherfucker_, say that within my hearing again, and I'll make _certain_ you're the next one lying in the hospital wing, and it'll take more than Mandrakes to mend your ass together again once I'm through with _you!"_  Curling her lip, she spat at Malfoy's feet.  "Bigoted—pampered—pureblood _monster!"_

Malfoy put a trembling hand to his nose.  "My father—"

_"My father,"_ Aeryn simpered mockingly. "Your father can kiss my ass—the whole Malfoy clan can kiss my ass—"

_"Miss Blake!"  _

The Potions master stepped in front of her.  Aeryn could feel the collective shrinking away of the class as he fixed a glare on her cold enough to freeze lava.  "What," he growled, towering over her, "what, Miss Blake, is the meaning of this?"

"Sir—" Malfoy whimpered from the floor— "she attacked me—it wasn't my fault—"

"The _hell_ it wasn't your fault!" Aeryn snapped.

"Miss Blake, that is enough," Snape said in a cold, clipped voice.

"Oh, don't even _start_ with me, Professor!" Aeryn snarled at him. "I am so _sick_ of your meddling in everything!"  A blistering rage pounded through her veins—she could see Malfoy cradling his streaming nose in his hands, and Crabbe and Goyle standing guard over him—  

"That is _enough_, Miss Blake," Snape repeated, a hardness beginning to edge his words.  He nodded curtly, and the hands holding Aeryn's arms reluctantly released her.  "Thirty points from Gryffindor—and you will apologize to Malfoy immediately."

Malfoy's head jerked up.  "Only thirty?" he asked, sounding as if a loyal friend had just betrayed him.

"Yeah, Professor, only thirty?" Aeryn asked.  She crossed her arms and glared up at him.  A bitter, vengeful smile twitched the edge of her mouth. "Rather generous of you, considering how I rack up the points—oh, _seventy_ at a time—"

Snape's face went instantly white.  "One more word out of you," he muttered between clenched teeth, "and you'll be in the headmaster's office before you can blink."

Aeryn laughed, tossing her head angrily.  "Why don't you just expel me?" she jeered.  "That'd solve all your problems in a heartbeat—no Dumbledore, no Ministry—"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" the Potions master roared in a voice so terrible that Aeryn's breath stopped in her throat.

The classroom was so still the dust could almost be heard gathering in the corners.  

When the Potions master finally spoke again, it was in a whisper that sent shudders up and down Aeryn's spine.

"Miss Blake."  With what appeared to be great effort, he straightened and took a step away from her.  "You will stay in this classroom until I have escorted the rest of the students to Herbology.  Then I shall deal with you."

The rest of the students rushed to their desks to gather their things, their actions jerky and devoid of their usual chatter.

"What about the attacker?" Aeryn couldn't resist saying, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Snape whirled around on his heel, black fire flashing from his eyes.  "If the attacker comes for you, Miss Blake," he snarled, "I wish him every success!"  With that, he swept from the dungeon, the Gryffindors and Slytherins following hurriedly behind him, their faces pale and pinched.

Aeryn slowly sat down at an empty desk, her heart pounding loudly in her chest.  The silence pressed heavily upon her.  She swallowed hard and glanced around the dungeon, trying not to shudder at the sight of the pickled animals bobbing in their bottles.  In the lifeless void of the Potions dungeon, Aeryn began to realize just how childishly she had acted.

But she did not have long to reflect on her actions, for very shortly the dungeon door was flung open and Snape stalked back into the room, his black robes swirling about his feet and a horrible snarl twisting his features.  

"Professor—" Aeryn began, but the Potions master crossed the room in three long steps and swooped down on her desk like a malevolent bat.  Aeryn crawled backwards in her chair as Snape pressed into her space, his face bare inches from hers.

"I cannot believe that even _you_ would be dense enough to do what you just did," he hissed in a terrible voice.  "The headmaster is gone, Hogwarts is falling apart around my ears, McGonagall is breathing fire for all of the professors for us to try and catch the culprit—" A spasm of fury contorted his face and he whipped a finger beneath her nose.  "And now _you_, acting like a complete _imbecile_ in class and, with your cleverly chosen phrases, almost blowing away everything I have worked so hard to keep together!"

Aeryn cringed in her seat.  "I—"

"I'm sure you haven't noticed, Miss Blake," the Potions master growled, freezing the words in her throat, "but there are many things going on at Hogwarts that none of us—not even I—could have anticipated.  The students are terrified, and the professors are not much better.  The last thing we need—_I _need—is _you!_  Of all the stupid, juvenile, vicious—"

His hands lifted jerkily from the desk, and for a second Aeryn was terrified that he was about to wrap them around her throat.  But instead, he abruptly straightened, drawing himself up to his full height to tower above her.

"You had better have an extremely good reason for what you did in class today," he whispered in a horrible voice.  He crossed his arms across his chest and stared down his hooked nose at her with a heat in his eyes that could melt the Antarctic.  "And I warn you, if it is anything less than Lockhart raping you in the hallway between class, I promise that you will spend the rest of the school year scraping the remnants of the first year's potion-making attempts from the bottoms of their cauldrons with your fingernails."  
  


Utterly stung at his cold words, Aeryn could only stare disbelievingly up at the Potions master.  She opened her mouth, trying to say the sharp words she had been planning.  "I…" she whimpered, and to her horror, her vision blurred and huge tears suddenly began to roll down her cheeks. 

At the sight of her tears, the anger locking Snape's features melted away immediately.  "What happened?" he demanded, uncommon concern tightening his voice.  He swiftly leaned back over the desk and grabbed her hands in his.  "Are you all right?  What did he do to you?"

With a furious cry, Aeryn pulled her hands away from him.  "He hasn't done anything!" she exclaimed, brushing a fist angrily across her cheeks.  "I'm just upset, all right?  I'm—just—"  

She drew a deep, shuddering breath, and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes.  "One of my friends was attacked—and you don't even seem to _care_, you let Malfoy—joke about it in class—" She swallowed and glared up at him, feeling quivers begin to wrack her body.  "And I can't—I'm so worried about the rest of them, I mean—if Hogwarts closes—they have nowhere else to go, and then what will happen?"  

The Potions master slowly drew away from her, backing up until he was leaning against his desk, his coal-black eyes calm as he regarded her.  She could feel a sob welling in her throat, and she had to fight it back.  "And it's such a struggle—with you—and Lockhart—he can't do anything to me right now, there's too many people around and I know that, but that doesn't stop him from _looking_ at me—" A half-cry, half-whimper escaped from her lips.  "I know he'll just _grab_ me, whenever he gets the chance, and I can't do anything about it, and then he says things and I can't—"

Her voice broke, and she pressed her lips tightly together, covering her mouth with her hands.

A long, heavy silence hung in the air between them.  Then, finally, Snape gave a long, tired sigh that sounded as if it came from the very soles of his boots. He stretched out a hand and beckoned to her.  "Come here, Miss Blake."  

Aeryn sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

He raised an eyebrow and beckoned again.  "Come here, Miss Blake."

Aeryn was ready to snap at him and tell him to stop ordering her around, but for once, Snape's black eyes were not filled with aloofness, but a surprising gentleness.  Dashing a lingering tear from her eyes, Aeryn huffily got to her feet and flounced up to his desk.

"What?" she muttered thickly.

The Potions master leaned forward and wrapped her hand in his.  Caught off-guard at this uncharacteristic action, Aeryn allowed him to gently pull her into a sitting position next to him on the desk.  Snape placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the face.

"Now," he said.  "I understand your concern about Miss Granger, but it's not quite as bad as you're making it out to be.  Professor Sprout's Mandrakes are nearly mature, and they'll soon be able to restore her, correct?"  

She sniffed and wiped the last vestige of moisture from her cheeks.  "Yeah."  

"And do you really think that, with all this tightened security around the castle, someone will have the opportunity to attack your friends?"

Aeryn decided that it would probably not be in her best interest to disclose to Snape her friends' late-night excursions, so she merely shrugged.  "I suppose not," she mumbled.

"All right, then."  A serious light crept into his coal-black eyes.  "Now, regarding Lockhart.  Has there ever been an opportunity for him to be alone with you?"

After a moment, Aeryn shook her head.  "No."

"Has he ever cornered you?"

"No," she said.  

"Given any indication that he might approach you?"  

Aeryn bit her lower lip and her eyes skittered from the Potions master's face.

His hands tightened around her shoulders.  "Miss Blake?"  

"He snapped my bra strap last week," she said quietly.

A pregnant pause fell between them.  "That's all he did?" Snape asked finally.  

His words were light, barely concerned, and Aeryn bristled at the underlying derision in his voice.  "It might not sound like much to you, Professor, but it sure as hell bothered me," she spat.

Another silence fell, but this time Aeryn could almost feel the anger wafting from Snape.  "You should have told me about it earlier," he said, and his voice was taut.

Aeryn shrugged.  "You haven't exactly been approachable over the last few weeks."

His hands slid from her shoulders.  "Touché."

Aeryn suppressed a shudder and turned away from him.  Her eyes grazed to the pickled animals lining the walls, and she wrapped her arms around herself, noticing for the first time in a long while how the stone walls of the dungeon leached the heat from the air.    Her anger had cooled, leaving behind the dregs of embarrassment.  "It's just been hard," she murmured after a long moment.  She sighed and gnawed on her lower lip.  She hated crying.  "That's all." 

There was a rustle of silk in the quiet air as Snape put his arm around her shoulders.  "It will be all right," he murmured.

Aeryn rolled her eyes, but a tiny smile flickered across her lips.

"Now," he said, the professorial diction creeping back into his words.  "As for your detention."

The smile fled from Aeryn's lips.  "What?"

"Your conduct in class today was completely unacceptable, Miss Blake," he said calmly, slipping his arm from her shoulders.

Aeryn openly stared at him.  "But Malfoy was—"

"Do your best not to whine, Miss Blake," the Potions master interrupted sternly.  "I do not and will not allow fighting—or the type of language you used—in my classroom.  I demand my students to have a vestige of self-control."

"Just like you," Aeryn snapped back.

She had the distinct pleasure of watching the muscles of his face tighten.  "Watch your words, Miss Blake," Snape murmured, forcing his features to smooth with an obvious effort.

Aeryn wisely fell silent.

Snape sighed.  "I understand there are extenuating circumstances that provoked your actions—"

"He deserved it," Aeryn muttered.

"Miss Blake!"  The Potions master whipped a finger beneath her nose warningly.  "If you interrupt me a third time, you will lose twenty points for Gryffindor!"

Aeryn pressed her lips tightly together.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.  "I cannot afford to play favorites with you, Miss Blake, as I'm certain you realize."

She said nothing.

He sighed again and dropped his hand.  "Since it is unsafe for you to wander the hallways at night, I will come to the Gryffindor common room for you at eight o'clock and escort you to your detention."

Aeryn glowered at him.

Snape turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow at her scowl.  "Really, Miss Blake," he said in a gentler voice.  "It won't be as bad as all that."

"You're being unfair," she growled between clenched teeth.

The Potions master shrugged.  "That's one of the more flattering phrases you've used to describe me."

Aeryn folded her arms across her chest in a huff.

A semblance of a chuckle escaped Snape's throat, and he waved a handkerchief in front of Aeryn's face.  "Here," he said, an air of amusement lightening his voice.  "Blow your nose and I'll take you to Herbology."

*          *          *

"We're going into the Forbidden Forest tonight," Harry whispered into her ear in the Gryffindor common room.

Aeryn's pen jerked up from the paper she was writing for Care of Magical Creatures, leaving a huge splotch on the parchment.  "What?" she hissed, blotting quickly at the ink.  

Harry took the seat next to her and leaned over, keeping his voice low so the crowded common room wouldn't hear his words.  "Hagrid told Ron and me that if we wanted to find out anything, we'd have to follow the spiders."  He drew his wand and tapped the tip against the parchment.  The blotch of ink disappeared in a small burst of white light.  "And we saw some spiders this morning, and they're headed into the Forbidden Forest," he continued, pushing a handful of jet-black hair out of his eyes.  "So that's where we've got to go."

Aeryn stared disbelievingly at him.  "You can't be serious!" she sputtered, trying not to raise her voice.  "You can't go in there—there are dangerous things—werewolves, big…monsters…."

"There aren't _all_ bad things in there," Harry retorted, but he looked rather uncomfortable.  "There are centaurs, and unicorns…."  

Aeryn was not convinced.  She had no desire to meet a centaur—which, she understood, were rather cryptic and aloof, and in that case she might just as well hold a conversation with Professor Binns—and she was frightened to death of what a unicorn might do if it saw her.  "Harry, honestly, I know Hagrid told you to follow the spiders, but still…can't you do it in the morning or something, when it's light?"

"There's no other time do to it but when everyone else is sleeping," Harry said.  "And we've got to do it tonight, Aeryn—there might be another attack tomorrow if not.  Are you going to come?"

"Are you insane?"

She stifled a sigh as an upset look tightened Harry's face.  She didn't want to go, she didn't want them to go, it wasn't safe, even with all the heightened security around the castle…_but_ Hermione _was attacked, shouldn't you do something about it_, asked a little corner of her mind.  Aeryn bit her lip.  As the adult of the group, she should demand that they stay in the castle tonight, but—

She glanced over at the grandfather clock in the corner.  Seven fifty-five.  "All right," she said, trying to keep the irritation from her voice.  "I've got detention with Snape at eight.  Wait for me in the common room until I get back."  She pointed a warning finger at Harry.  "I'll help you guys get out of the castle and follow you to Hagrid's cabin, but that's it."

She picked up her quill and bent back over her essay, ignoring the relieved grin that spread across Harry's features.  

There was a soft _whirr_ and then the grandfather clock began to ring: eight, long, sonorous chimes.  As the peals died away, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and the whole of Gryffindor House turned and stared in disbelief as Professor Severus Snape crawled through the portrait hole.

His gaze locked onto her.  Aeryn laid her quill down with suddenly sweating hands.

"Miss Blake," the Potions master said in a low voice, and his words echoed in the still air.  Aeryn slowly got to her feet and walked over towards him, trying not to flinch as she felt many pairs of eyes follow her movements.  Snape turned on his heel in a swirl of black robes and exited the common room, Aeryn following behind him.  

Neither of them spoke as they walked down the staircase and into the main hallway.  Aeryn had to hurry to keep up with the long-legged professor as he navigated the twisting hallways, up and down different staircases, and through hidden doors behind tapestries and behind suits of armor.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, Snape creaked open a heavy oaken door to reveal a dusty, abandoned chamber and ushered Aeryn through.

Aeryn looked around her in surprise.  The room was completely empty, save for a huge mirror spanning the length of the far wall.  Curious, Aeryn walked towards it.  The reflective surface was dull and tarnished from years of disuse, and the molded trim was black with age.  She put out a hand and gently touched the silvered surface, and a faint reflection echoed her, weirdly distorted by the dirt and grime.

"Do you know what this is, Miss Blake?"  The Potions master appeared at her shoulder.

Aeryn shrugged.  "It's a mirror."

"Not _just_ a mirror," Snape corrected her coldly.  He motioned towards the object sharply with one hand.  "This is one of the first magical mirrors ever created.  It used to hang in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, until the Ministry of Magic demanded it be banished."

Aeryn's fingers dropped from the surface of the mirror.  "Why did they do that?" she asked, squinting her eyes to peer at the grimed border.  She could see faint whorls, etched figures, but beyond that, nothing. 

"Because," Snape said, "this mirror was ensorcelled to tell the viewer whatever he needed to hear."

Aeryn glanced over at him.  The Potions master's hands were clasped behind his back, and there was an odd tautness to the set of his features, a rigidity in his squared shoulders.  "That's not so bad," she began carefully.  "Actually, that sounds rather—"

Snape cut her off with a wave of his hand.  "What the viewer _needed_ to hear, Miss Blake.  Not what he _wanted_ to hear, or even what he _should_ hear."  He folded his arms across his chest, his coal-black eyes gazing searchingly into the encrusted mirror.  "The mirror reflected the viewer's deep-buried images of himself and flung them back into his face—for, in order to keep viewing himself in the same way, he _needed_ to hear someone other than himself voice those opinions."

There was something in his voice that made the hair on the back of Aeryn's neck prickle.  "I still don't see the problem," she murmured.

His head whipped around, and Aeryn shrank at the ferocious intensity of his gaze.  "Don't you?" the Potions master sneered, the edge of his lip curling in a snarl.  "Mediocre wizards would stand in front of the glass and were told how _wonderful_ their talents were—and then the next day the idiots would race out to slay a dragon and get themselves killed."

Aeryn's head lolled backwards as the Potions master stalked towards her, towering above her like a sentinel.  "An exceedingly beautiful witch once stood in front of this mirror," he hissed, "and was told if it wasn't for her hands, she would be irresistible."  He bent his neck until his nose was almost touching hers.  "The very next day, she had them chopped off."

The weight of the still, dusty air pressed like a weight into Aeryn's shoulders.  "Why would anyone do something as stupid as that?" she whispered.

For a very long moment, neither of them moved, and Aeryn thought she would go blind beneath his intense gaze.  Then he stepped away from her, and his eyes slid once more to the mirror.  "Because they believed the words of the mirror," he said in his clipped professorial diction, turning towards the mirror.  He stretched out one hand and gently laid his palm against the dulled surface.  "Contrary to the stereotype, Miss Blake, magical mirrors do not tell the truth."  The pads of his fingertips tapped against the glass.  "They only reflect—it is up to us to form the conclusions."

A shudder lightninged down her spine, but Aeryn did not move.  Her palms were sweaty against the fabric of her robe, and her breath was uncommonly loud in the room.  She wondered if he could hear her heart beating, the air was so still.  Snape's form was so motionless that, for an instant, she thought he had turned into stone.

"Once, a long time ago, there was a boy," the Potions master whispered in a voice so rough that Aeryn's breath caught in her throat.  "A mere boy…a stupid, _foolish_ boy who allowed himself to be swayed by the hypnotizing power of words.  He would fly into a murderous rage at those who would mock him, and the slightest praise would turn his head until he was unable to see what was before him."  

He drew a deep breath.  "Then one day, the boy met a true weaver of words, a powerful man who could twist and bend the truth into whatever reality he wished it to be.  The man whispered unimaginable glories and promises into the boy's ears, and the boy believed the manipulative, seductive whispers."  

Snape's hand slid limply down the mirror.  "And thus the boy began his long descent into Hell."

Aeryn swallowed hard.  Her fists knotted in the fabric of her robes, but her eyes never left the Potions master's form.  She could see the muscles of his shoulders bunch beneath his robe.

"One terrifying day," Snape murmured, "the boy saw through the false promises of the manipulator and realized the truth.  He was eventually able to claw himself from the pit of lies and manipulations to save himself."  

He took a step away from the mirror.  "That boy still lives."  His voice was harsh.  "But he is now a hard, cold, bitter man whose dark past haunts him every waking moment, and who wears scars upon his soul and body that will never fade, not even after the passing of a hundred years."

He turned his head and gazed at her, and the shadows rimming his coal-black eyes were deep with despair.  Aeryn did not move as he advanced towards her.  

"Do not allow the words of others to control you, Miss Blake," he whispered.  "For words are merely sound and silence.  They are neither truth nor lies, neither good nor evil—unless you permit them to be."

Utterly beyond speech, Aeryn could only stare up at him.  The last remains of the professorial veneer had crumbled away, leaving the face of a tired man; a man who had seen too much of the world too quickly; a man who, in another life, could have been happy….

Snape's eyes slipped from hers and, once again, his coal-black gaze caught the mirror.

"It is such a fine line that separates good and evil," he murmured, as if to himself, but his words echoed clearly in the still air.

Aeryn lifted a hand to pull a strand of hair away from her eyes, and realized her fingers were trembling like poplar leaves.

For a long moment, Snape regarded the mirror.  When he turned back to her, Aeryn could see that whatever veil had been lifted from his soul had been drawn back into place, leaving only the role of the Potions master.  "That is all, Miss Blake," he murmured, his eyes and voice once again unreadable.

In silence, they retraced their steps through the halls and climbed up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.  Snape paused at the portrait of the Fat Lady.  "You will be all right from here," he said.  

Aeryn mumbled the password and crawled into the common room.  She felt like she should say something—anything—but when she turned around to call him back, the Potions master had already disappeared down the staircase.

*          *          *

Aeryn patiently waited as Fred, George, Harry, and Ron played several games of Exploding Snap.  Harry and Ron kept losing on purpose, trying to finish the games quickly, but even so, it was well past midnight when Fred and George finally went to bed.  The three waited for the distant sound of a dormitory door closing before the boys seized Harry's Invisibility Cloak and climbed through the portrait hole, followed by the illusion-shrouded Aeryn.

The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors wasn't enjoyable.  Aeryn, who had wandered the castle at night many times, had never seen it so crowded after sunset.  Teachers, prefects, and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs, staring around for any unusual activity.  Aeryn's illusion didn't stop her from making noise, and there was a particularly tense moment when Ron stubbed his toe only yards from the spot where Snape stood standing guard.  Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore.  It was with relief that they reached the oak front doors and eased them open, stepping out into the moonlit grounds.

"'Course," said Ron abruptly as they strode across the black grass, "we might get to the forest and find there's nothing to follow.  Those spiders might not've been going there at all.  I know it looked like they were moving in that sort of general direction, but…"

His voice trailed away hopefully.

They reached Hagrid's house, sad and sorry-looking with its blank windows.  When Harry pushed the door open, Fang went mad with joy at the sight of them.  Worried he might wake everyone at the castle with his deep, booming barks, they hastily fed him treacle fudge from a tin on the mantelpiece, which glued his teeth together.

"Here," Harry said, handing Aeryn his Invisibility Cloak.  "We won't need this in the forest."

"You sure you won't come?" asked Ron, his face pinched and pale.  "We could use your help."

Aeryn shuddered to think of a scenario where she could be more useful than Fang the boarhound.  "I won't come with you," she said slowly, "but I can do something that might help you out."  She beckoned to them.  "Come here."

After a second, Harry and Ron nervously shuffled towards her.  Aeryn placed her palms against their foreheads and closed her eyes, concentrating deeply.  Very gently, she quested into their minds; her fingers curling only slightly as she felt their emotions flood her consciousness.

"What're you doing?" Harry asked curiously.

Aeryn's brow furrowed as she tried to wrap part her mind around his consciousness.  "Harry, you know how every different person has a different fingerprint?"

"Yeah."

"Every different person also has a distinct mind-pattern, which if you know how to read it, can tell you how that person is feeling.  With just a little work, it's not too terribly difficult for a telepath to locate the mind-waves of a person she knows."  It was sort of like trying to wrap a huge, bulky package with a slender strand of twine, but she successfully marked Harry's mind and turned her full attention to Ron.  "What I'm going to do know is make a link with your minds to mine, so I'll be able to know what's happening with you, even if I'm not there."

She could feel the discomfort wafting from Ron.  "So, you're going to be reading our minds?" he asked uncertainly.

"No," Aeryn declared a shade more vehemently than she would have liked.  She fell silent for a moment, concentrating on the boy's mind-waves, and then continued with her explanation.  "For example, if something should—" _not a good analogy, think of something else_— "um, if you run into an unsafe situation, your mind-patterns should register immense fear, and that's what I'm going to read back here."

Her mind slipped around Ron's consciousness like an elastic band, and Aeryn opened her eyes.  Two pairs of eyes, one jade-green and the other velvety-brown, stared hesitantly back at her.  She pulled her hands away from their foreheads, feeling their apprehension echoed in her mind like an afterthought, like the remnants of a stomachache.  "It works," she said cheerfully, and was rewarded by two slightly weak smiles.

"Guess we're off, then," Ron said, trying to sound cheerful but falling slightly short.  He squared his shoulders determinedly and headed out of the cabin.

"C'mon, Fang, we're going for a walk," said Harry, patting his leg, and Fang bounded happily out of the house behind the boys.  Aeryn solemnly watched them light their wands and disappear into the blackness of the forest.  When she could no longer see the faint glow of the _lumos_ spell, she quietly shut the door of the cabin and sat down at the splintering table.

She drew T.M. Riddle's diary from her pocket, followed by a small inkwell and quill pen.  She stared at the objects for a moment, a small furrow creasing her brow.  Then, she picked up the quill pen and began to write.

_Hello, Tom._

The response was almost immediate._  "Aeryn, I'm so glad to hear from you."  _The words oozed smoothly from the page beneath her fingers._ "I was beginning to wonder whether you had tired of my conversation."_

_Of course not, Tom, _Aeryn lied just as smoothly._  I find you immensely intriguing.  _At least, she told herself, that much was true.__

_"And I, you.  I find it wonderful that you were given the opportunity to study at Hogwarts, considering your age.  In my day, such a thing would have been unheard of.  How fortunate indeed that times have changed."_

How fortunate indeed.  Aeryn was dying to ask the diary more about the Chamber of Secrets, to press Tom for the answers, but instead she dipped her quill in the inkwell and wrote,_ I agree.  Hogwarts has pretty much become my home._

There was a small pause before the next words rose on the paper, gleaming wetly in the flickering lantern-light._  "Are your parents dead, Aeryn?"_

Aeryn's breath snagged in her throat, and her fingers constricted around her eagle-quill pen.  After a moment, she pressed her lips together and forced the pen to move._  Yes.  _(Who would have known that a three-letter word would be so difficult to write?)_ Tom, I—_

_"I was an orphan when I came to Hogwarts, as well," _the diary interrupted, ink welling up from the page beneath her fingers._  "Funny, do you not find it, that you, Harry, and I are interconnected in such a way?  All without parents, all caught up in the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets…"  _

Tom's words trailed away into the page, but before Aeryn could write a suitable answer, he spoke again, the letters burning brightly against the stark white paper.  _"If you don't mind my asking, Aeryn, how did they die?"_

It was as if someone had slammed a sledgehammer into her stomach.  For a moment, all she could hear was the sudden roaring of blood in her ears.  Bile rose in her throat, and all sorts of memories and thoughts buzzed in her mind like bees in a jar.  She could feel the ropes on her wrists, hear the gurgle as her mother—

_I mind, Tom.  _She slashed the words across the page, her pen strokes thick and clumsy._  Very much._

The words sank into the paper, and Aeryn realized that her hands were trembling violently.

_"Forgive me."  _As Tom's words spread across the page, Aeryn felt a surging flood of emotion beneath her fingertips.  Pity…the most obvious, the taste was almost tangible in her mouth…doubt, but for what, she couldn't quite place it…and the faintest hint of…anger?_  "For over fifty years, I have been unable to hone my skills of conversation, and I fear they have fallen into disrepair and are now merely clumsy and blunt.  I did not mean to cause you pain."  _

Aeryn lifted her hands away from the diary.  She could not…she would not….

_"Perhaps I have become so far removed from the land of the living that I can only relate to those aspects closest to death."_

She laid her eagle-quill pen down next to the tome.  Tom's words sucked back into the page, leaving only a blank sheet of white paper.  It was a few seconds before Aeryn realized the sharp pain in her chest.  She attempted to breathe normally, but the air caught in her throat, leaving her only shallow gasps that made her head spin.

She would_ not…._

_"Aeryn."_

Aeryn bit her lip.  There was a heavy lump in the base of her throat, and she coughed awkwardly.  

"My mother died when I was very young, when I was only two."

Tom's words spread across the page slowly and in small letters, as if it was a great effort for him to write the words.  _"I only have a few fuzzy, half-formed memories of her.  She was beautiful…but sad, always sad.  And she was always sick—for one reason or another—I think it was because she was so frail, with a spirit too ethereal for her earthly form.  It was not a great surprise when she died, I think.  For her, I believe, it was almost a relief." _

 He paused, and then added in tiny letters that Aeryn had to strain to decipher: _"I was told she died of a broken heart."_

Tom's pen strokes became clearer, with an odd rigidity analogous to Snape's cold professorial diction.  _"I never knew my father.  He was a Muggle who, when he married my mother, had no idea that she was a witch.  When he discovered her secret, he abandoned her—six months pregnant with me, with no family to speak of, and nowhere to go."  _

Another pause, and the words that welled from within the diary were sharply formed, terse and tidy as a dissertation. _"But she still loved him.  She loved him up until the end, even after all he had done to her."_

Slowly, Aeryn stretched out a hand and laid a finger against the diary's blank page.  Sorrow and anger and _pain_, almost overwhelming in their intensity, met her touch.  Sympathetic tears sprang into her eyes, and she blinked them back, trying to keep herself focused.  She could almost see the young Tom Riddle, brilliant yet sad, struggling through his years at Hogwarts to find a place where he could fit in, be accepted….

Aeryn grabbed her quill and dipped it swiftly into the inkwell.  She hesitated only slightly over the blank page before writing in a clear, level hand:  _I was fifteen years old when my parents were murdered._

_"They were murdered?"  _His words came quickly.

_Yes.  _

_"Aeryn, I am so terribly sorry." _ Shock frissoned through the page beneath her fingers.  _"Had I known they were…I never would have asked."_

Aeryn's shoulders rose and fell as she breathed deeply, struggling to remain in control.  The nib of her pen touched the paper and she began to write, slowly at first, and then with increasing intensity._  It happened on my birthday, six years ago.  Two very powerful people broke into my house and…killed them.  I've never spoken to anyone about it._

_"That's completely understandable."  _Tom's words were like a gentle purr in her mind._  "How horrible.  Did you find them dead?"_

_No.  I…_She forced her pen to move._  I was forced to watch._

An engulfing burst of empathy rushed from the open page._  "Oh, my dear," _Riddle replied._  "Words cannot express my sympathy.  But, as I have been reduced to mere words, please accept my humble, clumsy condolences in the spirit which they are given."  _

"It's a little late for that," Aeryn whispered to herself, but she merely wrote:_ Thank you, Tom._

_"But you escaped the murderers, and for that, at least, I am thankful.  How on earth did you survive?"_

She wanted to slam the diary shut, to toss T.M. Riddle and his collective memory out the window of Hagrid's cabin, to bury it deep within the ground of the Forbidden Forest, so she could block out his horribly acute words, so she wouldn't have to answer him.  But the memory of Hermione lying glassy-eyed on a hospital bed stilled her fingers, and the thought of Hagrid, now languishing in the wizard prison of Azkaban….

She had made far greater sacrifices than this, for far more selfish reasons.  Why, then, did this feel as if she was flaying open her soul?  She closed her eyes only momentarily, then opened them and began to write.

_The two who killed my parents were_…(the word stung her, but she had to write it)…_mutants.  I don't know how much you know of mutants, if there were many around your time…_

_"I'm aware of them, yes."  _Riddle's answer spilled immediately over the page.__

The cold October night surged into her memory, and every instant of the piercingly clear memory struck her like a tiny, precise dart.  But she squared her jaw and loaded her quill with ink.

_But these two mutants—two very powerful mutants—they wanted my father to join them in their cause, fighting against ordinary people because he was a wizard, different, like them_…(how odd it felt to write those words, to consider mutants and wizards to be lumped together in the same group)…_But he wouldn't.  So they killed my mother.  _The pen trembled in her fingers, but she continued doggedly.  _And then…they were going to kill me…but…Dad got my hands free, and then I was able to…_

She stopped suddenly, the gravity of what she was doing striking her in the face.  She stared down at her words on the page, horror-struck.

_"What, Aeryn?"  _Tom's words oozed from the page, and along with it Aeryn felt the same eagerness she had sensed the first evening; desirous, craving, and utterly out of place._  "You were able to what?"_

Aeryn swallowed hard.  Slowly, very slowly, she brought her pen back to the paper. _ I…_Her inner being screamed at her not to write anymore, to disclose no more to this unseen being.  But she had started down a slope on which there was no stopping._  I was able to—_

A shockwave of utter, absolute terror rushed through her body, and she gave a loud cry, dropping the pen to the table and looking about her wildly.  The terror rushed through her again, and it took her less than an instant to know it was coming from Harry and Ron.  Something had gone horribly, completely wrong.  She scrabbled for the quill pen, her fingers clumsy, and slashed three words across the blank page in huge, sloppy handwriting:

_—Harry and Ron— _

The cabin door sprang open and Aeryn bolted through, feeling out before her with her mind.  The chill air bit her cheeks as she ran across the dew-sprinkled grass and into the foreboding line of dark trees.  Her vision was instantly dampened as the trees closed around her until even the stars overhead were no longer visible.  Aeryn slackened in her pace only an instant to draw her wand from her sleeve.

_"Lumos," she panted, leaping over a tree root.  The wand gave a weak sizzle and spat out a shower of sparks that died within seconds, but for a moment, Aeryn was able to distinguish the path.  Muttering the word like a __leitmotif beneath her breath, she spun the wand in her fingers, and the ground before her was suddenly illuminated with short, sparkling bursts of light._

The boys' fear leached through her bones like a chilling frost, and she pushed herself to run faster, _faster, not knowing what on earth she could do to help them but knowing she had to get there before anything else happened—_

She stumbled into a clearing and a sudden blaze of light burst in her face, so bright in the darkness that she instinctively flung up her hands to shield her eyes.  A long, mournful honk filled the air.  

Aeryn squinted into the light, and saw a blue car, scratched and smeared with mud, rolling towards her.  She screamed, and the car halted dead in its tracks as if it had been struck.  

"Wha—what—" Aeryn stammered, but was cut off as an agitated toot of the horn split the air.  The car swerved its front wheels back and forth in the underbrush, looking exactly like a dog trying to get its owner's attention.  She tried to peer into the front seat to see the driver, to try and get his attention—but there was no driver.

The car honked.

Aeryn's hands flew to her ears to block out the sound, and she winced as another burst of pure terror siphoned through her mind-link to the boys.

The car honked again, this time decisively frantic.  

_"All right!" Aeryn shrieked at the blue machine, and dove for the driver's side, yanking it open.  She reached for the accelerator, but was thrown back against the seat as the car shot forward, knocking branches aside and sending leaves everywhere.  Aeryn was jolted to the side as the car swerved through the forest, and she grabbed tightly onto the wheel to keep from being thrown from the vehicle._

Another burst of fear, not too far away, rang through her blood.

"LEFT!  TURN LEFT!" she yelled, and the car immediately obeyed her command.  She swore and gripped the wheel even more tightly, feeling more than one fingernail tear away with the effort.  The boys were close, so close—and there was something else with them, something huge, and intent on—

"FORWARD!  NOW!"

Sounding its horn like a battle cry, the car careened through a thick wall of trees with a stomach-turning crunch, and they skidded into a large, grassy hollow.  

Had she any breath left in her lungs, Aeryn would have screamed until she was hoarse.  The hollow was filled with spiders.  Not tiny spiders like those she had seen curled in the corners of the hallways.  Spiders the size of carthorses, eight-eyed, eight-legged, black, hairy, gigantic, who whirled around towards the car and clicked their pincers threateningly.  The car shot through the hollow like a bullet, knocking spiders aside and honking frantically.  Aeryn wildly glanced around her and saw Harry and Ron, their faces pale with fright as they brandished their wands in their hands.  

The car skidded to a halt in front of them, the passenger doors flew open, and Aeryn found her voice.

"GET IN THE CAR!  GET IN THE CAR!"  Two spiders rushed towards them as Ron tossed Fang the boarhound into the back of the car, but Aeryn flung up her hands and sent the arachnids flying with a furious mind-slam.  She didn't touch the accelerator but the car didn't need her; the engine roared and they were off, hitting more spiders.  They sped up the slope, out of the hollow, and they were soon crashing through the forest, branches whipping the windows as the car wound its way cleverly through the widest gaps, following a path it obviously knew.

Aeryn slumped back against the bucket seat, her heart pounding so fiercely in her chest that she was surprised it hadn't ruptured.  She wearily turned her head and looked over at Harry, sitting next to her in the front seat.  His jade-green eyes were huge, and for a moment it looked as if he wasn't breathing.  Then, he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"What…" Her voice was hoarse and sounded as if she had just returned from a rowdy football match.  "Harry, what the _hell happened?"_

Harry slowly turned his head and looked at her.  "We followed the spiders," he said weakly.  He lifted a hand and waved it half-heartedly in the air.  "And we got into this clearing, and we were captured by these—those _huge spiders—" He shuddered— "and they took us to their leader, Aragog, and it turns out __he was the creature that Hagrid had raised, the one that Riddle was talking about."  _

Harry ran a hand through his mop of jet-black hair.  "Aragog said that he had been blamed for killing a girl—the one that Riddle told me about—so Hagrid had to let him go in the forest so he wouldn't be destroyed."  He shrugged and closed his eyes again.  "And then he was going to let the other spiders eat us.  Then you and Mr. Weasley's car came."

"Mr. Weasley's car?"  She looked down at the scratched and dirty car beneath her.  

"Yeah."  Harry sounded exhausted.  "The forest turned it wild."

It made as much sense as anything she had seen today.  "So what killed the girl, if the spider didn't?" she asked, ducking involuntarily as the car crashed into a heavy branch, nearly cracking the windshield open.

"Aragog said that it was the creature from the chamber."  Harry sighed.  "He said he had been blamed, because her body had been found in a bathroom near the cupboard where he lived.  But he wouldn't tell us what killed her, it seemed as if he…he didn't even want to mention it, like it's some kind of animal Voldemort or something."

Aeryn nodded.  "So Hagrid's innocent, then?"

The car stopped so suddenly that they were nearly thrown into the windshield.  They had reached the edge of the forest.  Fang flung himself at the window in his anxiety to get out, and when Harry opened the door, he shot off through the trees to Hagrid's house, tail between his legs.  Harry and Aeryn got out too, and after a moment or two, Ron seemed to regain the feeling in his limbs and followed, stiff-necked and staring.  

As Harry gave the car a grateful pat, Aeryn suddenly remembered Riddle's diary still sitting on the table, and she rushed into the cabin to retrieve it.  She shoved it into her pocket seconds before Harry came into the cabin for his Invisibility Cloak.  Fang was trembling under a blanket in his basket.  When Harry and Aeryn got outside again, they found Ron being violently sick in the pumpkin patch.

"Follow the spiders," said Ron weakly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as Harry and Aeryn approached.  "I'll never forgive Hagrid.  We're lucky to be alive."

"I bet he thought Aragog wouldn't hurt friends of his," said Harry.

"That's exactly Hagrid's problem!" said Ron, thumping the wall of the cabin.  "He always thinks monsters aren't as bad as they're made out, and look where it's got him!  A cell in Azkaban!"  He was shivering uncontrollably now.  "What was the point of sending us in there?  What have we found out, I'd like to know?"

"That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets," said Aeryn.  "He was innocent."

Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over Ron and the two disappeared before her eyes instantly.  She dropped an illusion of invisibility over herself and they started off towards the castle.  They pushed the creaking front doors ajar and walked carefully back across the entrance hall and up the marble staircase, holding their breath as they passed corridors where watchful sentries were walking.  At last they reached the safety of the Gryffindor common room, where the fire had burned itself into glowing ash.  The boys removed the cloak and Aeryn dissolved the illusion, and they climbed the winding stair to their dormitory.

"Sleep well," Aeryn whispered to her friends at the fork in the staircase, and continued up the stairs to her dormitory.  She very carefully pushed the door open and tiptoed over to her scarlet four-poster.  Wearily, she collapsed on the bed and crawled under the covers.  She burrowed contentedly into her pillow, but even as her eyelids drooped, her mind worked furiously.

_Hagrid didn't open the Chamber of Secrets, she thought sleepily, yawning until her jaw cracked.  __So who on earth did?  And does Lockhart fit into this equation at all, or…her thoughts trailed off into a fuzzy haze, and she closed her eyes contentedly.  __And why would Tom lie to both me and Harry, saying that Hagrid…caused that girl to be killed…whoever she was…but she wearily determined that she would think about it tomorrow, not now, she was too tired, she didn't have the energy to determine who killed whom where and in which bathroom…._

Bathroom….

And then suddenly the answer hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she sat straight up.

_Moaning Myrtle._

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from Styx's magnificent song of the same name.  Again, the Riddle/Aeryn exchange is based off the Clarice/Lecter exchange from Jonathan Demme's masterpiece 'The Silence of the Lambs.'_


	31. Epiphany

Chapter 31:  Epiphany 

"So, you also think the girl who was killed fifty years ago was Moaning Myrtle?" Aeryn muttered to Harry at breakfast the next day.

"Definitely," Harry whispered back, passing her the bacon.  "It has to be her…there's no other explanation."

"All those times we were in that bathroom, and she was just three toilets away," said Ron bitterly, "and we could've asked her, and now…."

They walked to Transfigurations class somberly, musing silently to themselves over what to do next.  Escaping the ever-present net of teachers to sneak into a girls' bathroom would be difficult even for Aeryn, but for the boys it would be nearly impossible, _especially since it was the girls' bathroom right next to the scene of the first attack._

But something happened in Transfigurations that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks.  Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.

_"Exams?" howled Seamus Finnigan.  "We're still getting __exams?"_

There was a loud bang behind Aeryn as Neville Longbottom's wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk.  Professor McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned, frowning, to Seamus.

"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education," she said sternly.  "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible," she said.  "And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year."

Aeryn stared down at the pair of white rabbits she was supposed to be turning into slippers.  What had she learned so far this year?  Nothing that would be remotely useful for exams, unless Snape decided to have the second years prepare the antidote for the Berserker's Mead for their final exam, or Professor Flitwick tested them on turning invisible.  And, of course, for the rest of what she had learned this year…she pinched her lips tightly together.  As far as she was concerned, the memories of the past year could very well bury themselves deep in the recesses of her subconscious, never again to see the light of day.

Harry and Ron looked as though they'd just been told they had to go and live in the Forbidden Forest.

"Can you imagine me taking exams with this?" he asked Harry, holding up his wand, which had just started whistling loudly.

*          *          *

Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" several people shouted joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last.  Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified.  I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them.  I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

There was an explosion of cheering.  Aeryn smiled with relief.  Ron and Harry looked happier than they had in days. 

"It won't matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!"  Ron said joyfully.  "Hermione'll probably have all the answers when they wake her up!  Mind you, she'll go crazy when she finds out we've got exams in three days' time.  She hasn't studied.  It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they're over."

Aeryn laughed and grabbed a roll from the basket in front of her.  Yes, she could very well imagine how frantic the girl would be once she was awakened, but Aeryn could hardly wait for that whirlwind to land.  She looked across the Great Hall, feeling thoroughly content as she had not felt for a very, very long time.  

It hardly mattered now that she had not been able to speak with Tom Riddle since the evening in the Forbidden Forest.  She had tried speaking with him several times since then, but the blank paper sucked in her words as if it were quicksand, and she received no response other than the _January 1 on the top of the page.  She buttered her roll contentedly and took a bite.   _

Everything was fine—more than fine, fantastic—Hermione would soon be revived, the culprit would soon be caught, and Headmaster Dumbledore would return within days.  And with his return, she could finally end the nightmare she had been living for the past eight months.  Lockhart would finally be exposed for the slimy, devious creature he was.

And Snape—

Aeryn put her roll down, suddenly not hungry anymore.  

*          *          *

"I know the whole mystery of the Chamber of Secrets'll be solved tomorrow morning without our help," Harry said after Transfigurations, "but if we get a chance to talk to Moaning Myrtle today, I'm not about to pass up the chance."

Aeryn and Ron wholeheartedly agreed.   For Aeryn, it was not only a chance to talk to the first victim of the monster, but also an opportunity to return Riddle's diary to Harry.  She had been meaning to do so for days, but with the crowded atmosphere of the common room and dormitories and the inability to slip away to someplace secluded between classes, she hadn't wanted to risk the inevitable confrontation.

To her delight, the chance came, midmorning, when they were being led to History of Magic by Gilderoy Lockhart.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had so often assured them that all danger had passed, only to be proved wrong right away, was now wholeheartedly convinced that it was hardly worth the trouble to see them safely down the corridors.  His hair wasn't as sleek as usual; it seemed he had been up most of the night, patrolling the fourth floor.

"Mark my words," he said, ushering the students around a corner.  Aeryn eyed the professor warily.  Lockhart's normally cheerful grin seemed a bit strained, and his eyes were darting back and forth along the walls of the hallway in an oddly agitated manner.  "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be _'It was Hagrid.'  Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."_

_Of course, Aeryn thought sourly, slipping around Dean Thomas to place more room between her and Lockhart.  __Without any security measures, you'd have plenty of chances to feel me up in the hallways.  _

"I agree, sir," Harry exclaimed, and Aeryn nearly dropped her books in surprise.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart graciously while they waited for a long line of Hufflepuffs to pass.  "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night…."

_And preparing beakers of the Berserker's Mead…_but she instantly saw what Harry was trying to do, and she merely plastered a pleasant smile on her face.

"That's right," Ron chipped in, catching on.  "Why don't you leave us here, sir, we've only got one more corridor to go—"

"You know, Weasley, I think I will," said Lockhart.  "I really should go and prepare my next class."  He broke away from the clump of Gryffindors, but before Ron, Harry, and Aeryn could dash away, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor snapped his fingers and turned back to them, his handsome face slightly less strained.

"By the way," he said in a warm voice, "I'm very relieved, of course, that the Mandrakes are ready—I know you've been quite concerned about Miss Granger.  Of course, words cannot express my sympathy—it must have been horrible for you, truly horrible, these past few weeks, wondering if she was ever going to get restored."  He smiled benignly and spread his hands before him.  "But, as words are my forte, please accept my humble, clumsy, and belated condolences in the spirit which they are given." 

He gave a brief nod and hurried off down the hall.

"Prepare his class," Ron sneered after him.  "Gone to curl his hair, more like."

"But that was nice of him, to say that about Hermione," Harry said as they let the rest of the Gryffindors draw ahead of them.

But Aeryn did not speak.  She watched the multicolored form of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor slip away down the turns of the corridors and was suddenly frozen with shock, for she finally realized with startling clarity _why Riddle's diary had seemed so familiar when she had first seen Harry holding it—_

—because she _had seen it before, five months earlier, lying amidst the scattered papers and quills of Lockhart's desk, the diary she had asked about, which she had even __flipped through, which he had passed off as a gift from Draco Malfoy…_

_He had it, she thought, too stunned to move.  __Lockhart had Riddle's diary._

And then, an even more serious thought:

_Lockhart knew about the Chamber of Secrets.   _

She was only vaguely aware as the boys began to bolt down the empty hallway, then stopped and stared at her in disbelief.

"Aeryn, c'mon," Ron hissed, poking her in the shoulder.  "This is our chance."

The blood began to course through her veins again, and Aeryn violently shook her head.  She _had to know.  She __had to find out.  She took a step away from the boys, her hand instinctively flying to the pocket where she hid Riddle's diary.  "You go," she croaked, her voice rusty with alarm.  "Without me.  Now."_

"What?"  Harry stared at her as if she had just told them to kiss Lockhart's feet.  He flung a hand down the hallway.  "Aeryn, what is up with you?" he cried.  "Every time we've got a chance to figure this out, you—"

_"Go," Aeryn yelled fiercely, backing away from them.  Her breathing was coming quickly in her chest, and she had to clench her teeth together to keep herself from trembling.  "I swear to you," she murmured, "what I'm doing is __just as important to the mystery of the Chamber, but I can't tell you about it right now."_

Confusion twisted Ron's face.  "But what—" he began to protest.

Aeryn cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand.  _"Go, before a teacher comes!" she snarled, the viciousness in her voice matching Professor Snape's most cutting tones. _

"All right, fine," Ron muttered, throwing his hands up in disgust and stalking away down the hallway.  Harry hesitated only a moment, staring at Aeryn with a betrayed light in his bottle-green eyes that cut her to the quick.  Then he too turned and hurried towards Myrtle's bathroom.

Aeryn wasted no time.  Hampered only slightly by the guilt wracking her stomach, she dashed along the now-deserted hallway, casting her mind hurriedly before her to warn of any oncoming teachers or ghosts.  Someplace where she could hide, someplace quiet and far-removed from people, where she could write in the diary—the first floor was out of the question, as was the second, so she ran further up the marble staircase, panting only slightly as she landed upon the third floor.  

Here there was quiet—only the soft murmur from the few occupied chambers of the sixth and seventh years and the scritchings of mice in the corners.  Aeryn flew down the twists and turns of the deserted hallways, feeling the mind-presence of the students growing dimmer and dimmer.  At last, she turned a corner into a dusty hallway, where it looked as if no one had trod for years.  She skidded to a halt in front of the first classroom.  The door, rusty with age, had to be helped open with telekinesis, and Aeryn threw herself into the room, slamming the oaken door shut behind her.

Aeryn tossed her bag onto the thick dust lining the teacher's desk, her eyes skidding wonderingly about her surroundings.  The walls were curtained with cobwebs, eerily reminding Aeryn of Miss Havisham's house in _Great Expectations.  But instead of being laced with fly carcasses and desiccated arachnids, the pale-white silk gleamed with vibrant colors: scarlet, gold, sapphire, emerald, clinging to the webs like jewels in a setting.  Aeryn brushed a hand before her to clear a path, and the webstuff did not tear, but stretched like elastic bands.  _

She would have gladly tarried in the room, had not she felt the urgent pressing of time.  Giving one last swipe at the curtaining cobwebs, she brushed the thick dust from the teacher's chair and sat down at the desk. She pulled the diary from her pocket and grabbed a quill from her bag.

_January 1 stared bleakly up at her as she flipped open the front of the little black book.  Aeryn squared her shoulders and closed her eyes momentarily, drawing a deep breath to steel her nerves.  Then she opened her eyes, and quickly wrote in a flowing, clear hand across the page:_

_Tom, talk to me._

Her words gleamed brightly, and then absorbed into the white page.  She waited, but no response came oozing from the diary.  Her lips pinched together in anger.  _Damnit, Tom, talk to me, I need to speak with you! she wrote, the nib of her pen digging deeply into the page._

Ink rose from the page, zipping across the pale surface like a tongue of flame._ "What if I don't feel like talking?"  His words dripped with bruised pride. __"Unlike you, I can't very well slam my diary shut and run away when I don't wish to answer."_

_Don't be petty, Tom, she wrote sharply._

_"Me, Tom, petty?"  There was amusement now, cold and hard like tempered steel.  __"Would that or would that not make me a heartbreaker, my American girl?"_

_Ha ha, Tom, Aeryn wrote bitterly.__  Very funny._

Something akin to a sigh colored Tom's words as they spilled across the page.  _"Oh, Aeryn, your problem is you need to get more fun out of life."_

_I know about Gilderoy Lockhart, Tom.  She scratched the words sharply, as if she was carving them into stone rather than merely writing them.  __I know that he had your diary, before the Chamber of Secrets was reopened, before this whole mess started._

A faint wave of shock rippled through the diary.  _"Did he, now?  How intriguing," Tom said slyly, a sinuous thread of laughter lacing his words.__ "Gilroy Lothert, you say?  The name sounds familiar…"_

Anger caught the breath in her throat.  _Don't play games with me, Tom! she snapped._

_"Don't push me, Aeryn," Tom snapped back, and his anger surged through her fingertips.__  "You're in no position to be making demands." _

His words were sucked back into the diary, leaving nothing but a blank whiteness.

Tom? 

He did not reply.

Aeryn gritted her teeth.  If only time was not so pressing…but it was, and so she dipped her pen in the ink and wrote, trying to ease the tension from her hand so her words would not be quite so strained.

_All right, yes, I'm sorry.  Now please, tell me about Lockhart.  Please._

_"No."  His reply was instantaneous._

_PLEASE, she begged, desperation making her handwriting huge and sloppy._

Through her hand resting on the diary's blank pages, Aeryn felt a stirring of emotion.  _"All right, Aeryn," Tom wrote back finally, but his words were suddenly clinical, businesslike.__  "I will, on the condition that you finish telling me the story about the night your parents were killed."_

Her hand faltered over the page.  _Why? she asked, her heart beginning to thump loudly._

_"Why not, my dear?  Who knows, I might be pacified and tell you what you need to know."  A toying edge crept into his words. __"You'll catch more flies with honey than you would with vinegar."_

_I don't have time for this, Aeryn wrote frantically, choking back the hysteria rising in her throat.__  I'm supposed to be in class right now, if I don't show up they'll come looking for me—_

Ink flowed from the diary beneath her fingers and across the page, cutting off her words.  _"But we don't measure time the same way, do we, Aeryn?  This is all the time you'll ever have."_

Aeryn slumped back against the chair.  Her eyes glazed to the jeweled cobwebs floating before her eyes.  So lovely and fragile, yet with their own resilient strength…she _couldn't tell him, she would not put herself through that agony again, to see…but then into her mind's eye floated the Petrified images of Nearly Headless Nick, and Colin, and Justin, and __Hermione…._

She drew a deep breath and bent her head over the diary.

_"Consider this the last dance, Mary Jane," Riddle wrote, his words gleaming wetly on the page.__  "You were fifteen years old, and two very powerful mutants killed your mother before your eyes.  Your father, a wizard, was able to get your hands free.  And?"_

—The woman, the illusionist, buried her hands in Aeryn's hair and yanked her head backwards, exposing her throat, and rage began to boil inside of Aeryn, burying her fear—

_One mutant…tried to slit my throat.  Her handwriting was spindly and awkward, her fingers suddenly clumsy.  __I pulled my hand from the ropes…and grabbed hold of her arm…_

_"And what did you do?"_

_I…_

—she clenched her teeth and _pulled as hard as she could, with her mind, and the woman shrieked and her knees buckled beneath her as her powers suddenly flowed into Aeryn—_

_…my touch…I was able to absorb her powers, even her life force…_

_"But that wasn't all, was it, Aeryn?  There was still the other mutant."_

—The man turned and saw them.  His eyes widened, and, with a curse, he rushed over and pressed his hand to Aeryn's face.  But she was ready for him as well—__

_The telepath.  He came over, tried to…scramble my brains…but once he touched me,  I…Her breath was ragged in her throat, and she had to swallow several times before she could shakily write the words…__absorbed his powers, too._

_"Did it kill them?"_

_Yes.  She could see the two mutants, drained of their life, lying at her feet.__ My mother was dead, no saving her…but my father was still alive…Aeryn could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes, and she bit her lip, trying to hold them back.__  He was dying, even I could see that, but he said…he told me…_

—He coughed, and blood stained his lips—

_"If you couldn't be a wizard, I'm glad that you're a mutant."  One lone tear trickled from the corner of her eye.  __And then…_

Her pen faltered, and she put a hand to her mouth.  

_"Yes?" Riddle said.__  "And then what, Aeryn?"_

She had to finish.  Gathering her strength about her, she continued to write, the scratching of her pen almost deafening in the still room.  _He wanted me to…to take his power…so I could use it, so I could come to England, where he was born and…find others like him._

_"And did you do as he asked?" _

_Yes.  _

—Aeryn's lips quivered, ready to refuse him, but she couldn't.  "I love you, Daddy," she said softly, and bowed her head_—_

_I started to…absorb his magic…but as I did, he…_

—He groaned, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and she screamed his name but it was no use—

_"He died," Riddle finished for her gently._

_Yes._

For an instant, her knees were wet with her mother's blood as she knelt beside the body of her father…Aeryn brought a hand to her face and quickly wiped away the tears staining her cheeks.  But she was not quick enough.  One lone tear dripped from her cheek and splattered against the white page of the diary, where it was sucked up just as the ink had been.

There was a long pause.

Finally, words came rising up from the depths of the page.  _"Thank you for sharing that with me, Aeryn."_  Tom's voice was soothing, like gentle waves against the shore.  _"You don't know how much I appreciate it."_

_Please, Tom._  Aeryn forced herself to pull her mind away from the past, to think instead about the task at hand.  She sniffed and dipped her pen again in the ink, not caring at the pleading, desperate tone of her words.  _Tell me about Lockhart.  What does he have to do with the Chamber of Secrets?_

A flow of raw emotion swelled from the diary, and Aeryn jerked her hand away with a cry.  _"Lockhart?"_ Tom wrote, and she could almost taste his sneer. _"That bumbling, pretentious, egotistical excuse for a wizard?"_ A laugh, or what would have been a laugh, tinged his next words.  _"The only chamber he's interested in is one with you lying atop a vibrating bed."_

Aeryn stared down at the pages in disbelief.

_"On the other hand," _he wrote slyly,_ "Severus Snape would be a completely believable candidate for the Heir of Slytherin.  I am aware that you and he have an…understanding."_

Horror lanced through Aeryn's body._  How do you—_

_"Honestly, Aeryn, do you think a wizard as pathetically inept as Lockhart capable of formulating the delicate subtleties required for the use of the Berserker's Mead?"  _There was triumph in his words now, a condescending triumph that froze her to her seat._  "Did you never wonder where he might have received the information to make such a poison?"_

_I—_

_"Of course, our relationship was strictly _quid pro quo_—I never would have put up with that loathsome bore otherwise.  Vain, although exceedingly intelligent in some respects, and always, always talking about himself!  Me this, me that…it was extremely tiresome."  _

Aeryn sank back against her chair.  This couldn't be happening, it_ couldn't—_

"Unless, of course, he was writing about you," Riddle said. "He certainly has a flair for the artistic—the Marquis de Sade himself would have blushed at some of the things our Gilderoy described—"

With trembling fingers, Aeryn slammed the cover of the diary shut, blocking out his awful words.  The chair clattered back as she leapt to her feet, blood thundering in her ears as she leapt towards the door—she had to get out of here, find McGonagall, find_ someone, _let them know about—

Her movements halted as if she had suddenly become tangled in a huge, invisible net.  Without warning, a crushing presence flooded her mind, and Aeryn was abruptly unable to move.  Her eyes widened and she struggled to move, to free herself—but her muscles had turned to stone and no matter how hard she pushed, they wouldn't give—

_*However, although he was accommodating, Lockhart was never what I would call essential.  Which is where you come in, my dear.*  _

If Aeryn could have screamed, she would have.  A high-pitched voice boomed sonorously inside her head, smothering her ability to think, to struggle, to—

_*What a veritable Gryffindor you make, sweet Aeryn,* _the voice whispered, and in its clear tones Aeryn could feel joy, an evil, victorious joy.  *_So unwilling to disclose your past, but yet so desirous to aid your friends….*_

Terror brought her strength.  With a tremendous effort, Aeryn wrenched her head around and looked towards the desk.  What she saw made the breath stop in her throat.  The little black diary was glowing, and as she watched, the cover slowly flipped open to the first page.

_*It would have been in your best interest not to pour so much of yourself into me,*  _the voice said in a chiding manner, and a chilling laugh echoed inside Aeryn's head. _ *But then again, I have always found Gryffindors to be the easiest of the four Houses to manipulate—especially when presented with the correct incentives.*_

The glow brightened to an almost unbearable intensity, but Aeryn was unable to tear her eyes away.  Just when she thought she might go blind, the light coalesced into a tall column, shooting out from the heart of the diary.  The column began to darken, to mold into a semblance of a shape, and Aeryn could see a mop of jet-black hair, a thin, smiling face, and the cold, piercing eyes of a serpent….

"And mutants, of course, even more so," whispered Tom Riddle.

He stretched out a hand towards her face.  Aeryn writhed against her invisible bonds, trying to free herself, trying to free her mind to strike back at the glowing shape, but his hand fell against her skin, and suddenly all went black.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_This time, the Riddle/Aeryn exchange was directly ripped from the movie 'The Silence of the Lambs.'  I did a semester paper on the interpersonal communication in SOTL and the dynamics of the relationship between Clarice and Lecter.  This scene is heavily based off my transcription of the third meeting between the two, 2/3 of the way through the film._


	32. The Chamber Of Secrets

Chapter 32: The Chamber of Secrets 

"Aeryn."

Her name, murmured in a sibilant voice, pulled Aeryn slowly to consciousness.  She was lying facedown on a smooth stone floor, so cold that it leached the heat from her skin and left her numb.  There was a dull, throbbing ache in her forehead, as if someone had whacked her with a hammer.  She tried lifting her head, and winced as pain shot down her spine in response.

"Aeryn.  Wake up."

Aeryn moaned and cracked open her eyes.  Her vision was blurred and she blinked hard to clear it.  The dim light coalesced until Aeryn could see she was lying in a long, dimly lit chamber.  With a great effort, she rolled over on her back and stared up into the giant face of a statue looming above her.  It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous gray feet stood on the smooth chamber floor, on either side of Aeryn.  Within the chamber, towering stone pillars entwined with carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

"That's better," said an amused voice.

Aeryn shakily sat up, the motion causing her head to spin.  Her robe was moist and clung to her body.  She brushed a hand against the fabric, and it came away wet with slime.  Shuddering, she looked over at the nearest pillar and started slightly.  A tall, black-haired boy was leaning against it, watching her intently.  He was strangely hazy around the edges, as though she was looking at him through a misted window.  Aeryn knew immediately who he was.

"Tom Riddle," she croaked.

The boy inclined his head slightly.  "Correct."

Aeryn suppressed a shudder.  With his black hair, the lankiness of his tall body, there was an eerie resemblance between the boy from fifty years ago and Harry Potter, save that Harry's eyes were not so calculating, so hard….

"Where am I?" she asked, the words catching in her throat.

Tom Riddle spread his arms wide, and a cold smile spread across his face.  "The infamous Chamber of Secrets, where else?" he exclaimed.

Aeryn stared at him in horror.  No…she had to have heard him incorrectly…but as she looked around the chamber, she saw again the multitude of snakes, their jeweled eyes gleaming in the dim light, and her pulse began to increase, very slowly.  "How did I—" she swallowed, trying to keep her voice even— "how did I get here—"

"You mean you don't remember?"  The boy against the pillar clucked his tongue and shook his head.  "I'm surprised, my dear.  You're normally so astute about things like this."  He laughed, a high-pitched, unnatural sound that nearly froze the blood in her veins.  "You got down here yourself—with a little help from me, of course."

Aeryn stared up at the statue towering above her.  The wizard's eyes held the same warmth and gentleness of an Arctic wind, and Aeryn quickly drew her eyes away from it.  Her entire body was trembling, and she felt the same nauseous, gut-turning feeling as if she had been swiftly immersed in a room filled with cigarette smoke.  The snakes outlining the chamber were startlingly lifelike, and as her eyes grazed across them, she heard a sharp hissing.  Startled, she whipped her head around to search for the noise.  She saw a flash of poison-green, and a long, serpentine body—

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, my dear," Tom said smoothly, and the next instant Aeryn felt her eyelids forced shut by an invisible hand.  As she sat on the stone floor, motionless as a trapped animal, she heard a rustle like sandpaper rubbing against skin.  She blindly turned her face towards the sound, stretching out a hand before her, and her fingers brushed against scales rigid as armored plate.

She jerked her hand away.  "What is it?"

She heard Tom chuckle.  "Hazard a guess."

The thing slithered closer to her, and Aeryn could almost hear the clink of its scales rubbing together.  Her breath was thick in her throat.  "The creature," she murmured brokenly.

A horrible hissing answered her, and Aeryn instinctively curled up in a small ball on the stone floor, hugging her knees to her chest.  Tom Riddle laughed again, a discordant noise that shattered in the air like breaking glass.  "Correct on the first try," he said.  "Can you try and guess _what _it is?"  

Her heartbeat thundered in her throat.  Scales clinked closely to her, and the hem of her skirt moved slightly as the creature slithered by her.

"Come now, Aeryn, I'll even give you a clue.  The crowing of the rooster is fatal to it."

Aeryn's fingers tightened around her legs.  There was a hissing again, this time soft and intense, almost like air escaping from a bike tire.

"No guesses?"  There was definite amusement in Tom's voice now.  "Another clue, then.  Born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad."

A phrase from her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _flew into her head:  _The King of Serpents_.  Aeryn's breath caught in her throat.  

"A basilisk," she whispered, and her voice was filled with horror.

"Very good," Riddle purred. 

She could feel the creature close to her, and Aeryn pulled herself into a tighter ball, thankful now that her eyelids were screwed tightly shut.  "But—basilisks kill people by looking at them, but no one's died—"

"No one's died, Aeryn, because they've all been _lucky_," Riddle interrupted.  "The first one, that Creevey boy, he saw the basilisk through his camera.  The film burned up inside of it, but the boy was merely Petrified.  The Hufflepuff saw it through the Gryffindor ghost, and of course the ghost couldn't die again, but he did get the full blast of it…." Tom sighed.  "And your friend Hermione, and that other girl, they used mirrors to look around the corner.  _Extremely_ clever, although it wouldn't save them from being Petrified."

The basilisk hissed close to her left ear, and Aeryn squeaked, scooching backwards on the stone.  "And Mrs. Norris—"

"The bathroom near the first attack was flooded," Riddle said.  "The cat must have seen the reflection of the basilisk in the water."  Exasperation edged his voice.  "Of course, the odds were that _someone _would get killed, but to my chagrin no one has—unlike fifty years ago."

"The girl," Aeryn said.

"Myrtle."  He laughed suddenly, a triumphant, mocking laugh that chilled the blood in Aeryn's veins.  "Stupid, sad little Myrtle.  How was I to know that she was in that bathroom when I first called the basilisk?  She was in one of the stalls, crying, and when she came out to tell me to leave, she saw the basilisk, gave a little shake, and poof!  It was all over for her."

His words melted away into high-pitched giggling.  The shuddering of Aeryn's muscles was uncontrollable now.  If she could only see—but she couldn't, to do that would mean instant death—yet the sound of the basilisk scales on the stone was utterly—

A tiny waft of air gusted across her face, and then a cold, wet tongue flickered against her cheek.  Aeryn shrieked, striking out blindly with one hand.  Her palm slapped against scales, and an angry hissing sound erupted before her.

Tom's horrible laughter echoed over the basilisk's complaining, and then a second hissing spat through the air.  It took Aeryn a moment to realize that it was coming from Tom, and he sounded exactly like Harry had that evening of the Dueling Club, when the enchanted snake had been ready to attack Justin Finch-Fletchley.  An answering hiss came from the basilisk, and then the scraping scales rattled away from Aeryn.  

"My poor pet," Tom said in a good-humored way.  "He's been cooped up for so long that he's quite famished.  He tells me you would make an excellent appetizer."

Aeryn buried her face in her knees.

Tom hissed something again to the basilisk, and Aeryn heard it rustle away into the distance.  "You can open your eyes now," he said after a moment.

Fear still coursed through her veins at the thought that she might open her eyes and stare into the poison-green gaze of the basilisk, but she drew a deep breath and lifted her head a fraction from her knees.  The unseen hand clamping her eyelids shut had disappeared, and she cracked open one eye.  There was nothing living in the chamber save for herself and the blurred Tom Riddle.  Aeryn opened both eyes and looked over at the boy, who was idly rubbing a recently-shed scale between his fingertips.  

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

Tom put the scale in his pocket and mockingly shook a stern finger at her.  "No, my dear—the question is why are _you _doing this?"

"What?"  But as soon as the word slipped from her lips, Tom Riddle flung out a hand towards her. A searing agony erupted in Aeryn's brain and she screamed, writhing on the floor as if she was being prodded with white-hot pokers.  She thrashed against the stone, her muscles on fire—and just as swiftly, the pain withdrew, leaving her a gasping, quivering wreck.

"So easy to manipulate," Tom Riddle purred.  His cold eyes regarded her calmly.  "But you're stronger than I expected, did you know that?  By this point in time with Lockhart, he was completely under my control."

Aeryn pushed herself off the floor and glared balefully at him.  "You won't get away with this—"

"Won't I?" Tom sneered.  "And who are you going to accuse, Aeryn, a fifty-year-old diary?"  He laughed, and the sound splintered harshly in Aeryn's eardrums.  "If you think that alibi would hold water, then Hufflepuff has indeed lost a great treasure in you."

"My friends will find me—" she panted, wincing slightly as a twinge echoed through her body— "they'll rescue me, and then you'll—"

"My dear, I am counting on precisely that," Tom interrupted smoothly, and his words sucked the air from her lungs.  A smile twitched his lips as she stared at him, aghast.  "But I forget—you have no idea what's going on up in the school, do you?"  He stroked his chin with his long fingers.  "It's quite intriguing indeed—for such a small person, you certainly can cause a huge ruckus." 

Aeryn looked at him blankly.

"Would you care to see?"  Without waiting for her answer, he closed his eyes and shoved his presence into Aeryn's mind so suddenly it hurt.  With a clinical ease, he pulled their collective minds up through the thick stone ceiling—upwards from the depths of the deepest dungeons—onto the first floor—through the rich tapestries hanging the walls—

—into the teachers' staff room. Aeryn cast her mind around the chamber and noticed the familiar presences of Harry and Ron hiding in the staff room wardrobe.  A small smile tugged her lips.  The door swung open and a line of professors filtered into the room; some of them looked puzzled, others downright scared.  Her gaze rested momentarily on Professor Snape, whose facial muscles were unusually tense.  A low murmuring rustled among the professors as they milled about the room, some of them sitting, others pacing nervously back and forth.  The door swung open again and Professor McGonagall stepped through.  The staff room immediately fell silent and all eyes turned to her.  

The deputy headmistress walked with a heavy tread into the center of the room.  "It has happened," she said in a low voice.  "A student has been taken by the monster.  Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal.  Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth.  Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message.  Right underneath the first one._  "Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever."_

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

_*Do you remember writing that, Aeryn?* _Tom exclaimed suddenly, his voice ringing hollowly in her mind.  _*You did, you realize, before coming down here.  A rather poetic touch, don't you think?* _

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair.  "Which student?"

"Aeryn Blake," said Professor McGonagall.

A typhoon of shock slammed into Aeryn's mind from the assembled teachers, but most especially from the wardrobe and from the Potions master, who suddenly looked as if someone had fired a bullet into his heart.  She watched helplessly as Harry's face blanched white and Ron slid silently down onto the floor of the wardrobe. 

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall.  "This is the end of Hogwarts.  Dumbledore always said…."

The staff room door suddenly banged open again, and all eyes turned to see Gilderoy Lockhart sweep into the room, his trademark grin plastered across his face and his forget-me-not blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"So sorry—dozed off—what have I missed?"

Tom Riddle's mocking laugh echoed in Aeryn's ears as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sashayed into the room, and her stomach lurched in response.  Lockhart didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred.  Snape's face went white as his eyes fell on the other professor, and the expression that crossed his features was fierce enough to stop Aeryn's heart.  He stepped forward slowly, his hands clenching to fists at his sides.

"Just the man," he snarled.  "The _very _man."

Lockhart turned to look at Snape, and for the merest instant, his beaming grin faltered.  A second later, it was back in place, and he held a comradely hand out to the Potions master.  "Severus, old chap, what's going on?"

Snape ignored the outstretched hand.  "One of the students has been snatched by the monster, Gilderoy."  His coal-black eyes flashed with a terrible fire._  "Aeryn Blake."_

The gazes of the two professors locked, and for a moment, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's face was darkened with an evil, knowing leer.  But it was just as quickly erased by his signature grin a second later.  "How horrible—"

"Taken," Snape exclaimed, and Aeryn saw the muscles of his shoulders bunch beneath his black robe, "into the Chamber of Secrets itself.  Your moment has come at last."

The blinding smile dropped from Lockhart's face immediately.  "What?" he asked, and a confused look began to creep slowly over his features.__

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout.  "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

Lockhart stared at the squat little witch as if she had suddenly grown tentacles.  "I—well, I—" he sputtered, trying to plaster another grin on his face but only succeeding in giving a half-hearted grimace.  

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

Lockhart blanched.  "D-did I?  I don't recall—"

"I certainly remember you were saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape, and Aeryn could see him visibly struggle to keep his voice even.  "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.  "I really—never—you may have misunderstood—"

"We'll leave you to it then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall.  "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it.  We'll make sure everyone's out of your way.  You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself.  A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue.  He didn't look remotely handsome anymore.  His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"V-very well," he said.  "I'll—I'll be in my office, getting—getting ready."  

And he left the room in a flurry of brightly colored robes.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got _him _out from under our feet."  She turned her hard gaze to the rest of the teachers, who were regarding her silently, save for Snape, who was standing as if turned to stone, watching the door where Lockhart had disappeared instants earlier.  "The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened.  Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow.  Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?"

The teachers murmured their assent, and then began to filter from the room, talking in subdued voices to one another.  But Snape still did not move, even when the last of the professors had left the room and quietly shut the heavy oaken door.

Professor McGonagall looked over at him.  "Yes, Severus?" she asked.

With jerky movements, Snape turned around and stared at the deputy headmistress.  His face was pale as he took a halting step towards her.  "Minerva."  The Potions master's voice was thick and strangely choked.  "Miss Blake—is there nothing we can do?"

The corner of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched, and she quickly turned around, gazing intently at the books lining the bookshelf behind her.  "The monster has taken her, Severus," she said in a cold, clipped voice, running her fingers blindly along the book spines.  "She's most likely dead by now."

The muscles in Snape's jaw clenched, and there was no mistaking the desperation in the coal-black eyes he fixed on McGonagall.  "But shouldn't we at least try and find the Chamber, at least—" His voice faltered slightly, and he cleared his throat roughly— "retrieve her body—"

McGonagall's fingers stilled.  Very slowly, she turned to face the Potions master, and her eyes locked with his in a chilling glare.  "Go back to your House, Severus," she hissed.  "Speak to your _Slytherins_ and tell them what has happened, and leave me to handle the _Gryffindors."_  The deputy headmistress lifted her chin, and the bitterness soaking her next words was almost tangible.  "We are fully capable of mourning our own."  

Snape flinched as if he had been slapped.  McGonagall remained staring at him until finally he turned away, his lips pressed together tightly as he strode from the staff room.  

The heavy oaken door slammed shut behind him.  Inside the wardrobe, Harry and Ron stared helplessly at each other as Professor McGonagall dropped into a chair and put her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.  There was a sudden crumple of black robes in the hallway as the Potions master collapsed against the wall, his face twisted with grief—

_*That's enough for now,*_ came the calm voice of Tom Riddle, and suddenly Aeryn's mind was jerked down through the walls, the floor, the multitude of dungeons, until she opened her eyes with a start in the chill, dank air of the Chamber of Secrets.

*          *          *

The minutes snailed by into hours, and the hours stretched on endlessly.  Aeryn slept sporadically on the stone floor, every once in a while fuzzily regaining consciousness to hear Tom and the basilisk hissing to each other in muted, conspiring tones.  As the day wore on, she began to feel more and more weak, the muscles in her body trembling whenever she moved.

She could not erase the picture of her friends' horrified faces from her mind.  Although she had no idea how they would even begin to find her, she had to get in contact with them.  Her eyes rolled over to Tom Riddle, leaning against the stone pillar and humming softly to himself.  She concentrated, her body motionless on the cold, hard floor, and carefully threw her mind back up through the thick ceiling, through the dungeons, onto the first floor, up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower—

—"D'you know what?" said Ron.  "I think we should go and see Lockhart.  Tell him what we know.  He's going to try and get into the Chamber.  We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a basilisk in there."

_No, _Aeryn tried to scream at them as they rose and left the Gryffindor common room.  _No, don't go to him, he's behind it, he's—_but as she gathered her remaining strength to fling her words towards them, an overpowering presence burst into her mind, suffocating her thoughts.  _*No, no, my dear,* _Tom Riddle purred.  _*You can watch all you want, but I won't allow you to meddle.* _

Helplessly, Aeryn watched as the boys walked down the stairs to Lockhart's office.  There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it—scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.

Harry knocked, and there was a sudden silence from inside.  Then the door opened the tiniest crack and one of Lockhart's eyes peered through it.

"Oh—Mr. Potter—Mr. Weasley—" he said, opening the door a bit wider.  His normally smooth golden hair was rumpled, and there was a rather frenetic gleam in his periwinkle-blue eyes.  "I'm rather busy at the moment—if you would be quick—"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," interrupted Harry.  "We think it'll help you."

"Er—well—it's not terribly—" To Aeryn's surprise, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor looked extremely uncomfortable.  "I mean—well—all right—"

He opened the door and Harry and Ron entered.  Lockhart's office had been almost completely stripped.  Two large trunks stood open on the floor.  Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight-blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other.  The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk. 

"Are you going somewhere?" said Harry. 

"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up.  "Urgent call—unavoidable—got to go—"

"What about Aeryn?" said Ron jerkily.

Lockhart's hand faltered only slightly as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag.  "Well, as to that—most unfortunate—" he said, avoiding the boys' eyes.  "No one regrets more than I—"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry.  "You can't go now!  Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well—I must say—when I took the job—" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes.  "Nothing in the job description—didn't expect—"

"You mean you're _running away?" _asked Harry disbelievingly.  "After all that stuff you did in your books—"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor straightened slowly and fixed a glare on Harry that sent chills up and down Aeryn's spine.  "My dear boy," Lockhart said slowly, a furious glint creeping into his periwinkle-blue eyes.  A cold smile twitched his lips. "_Do_ use your common sense.  My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think _I'd _done all those things.  No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves.  He'd look dreadful on the front cover." He laughed, and it sounded like glass breaking.  "No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on—"

"So, you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" said Harry incredulously.

"Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that.  There was work involved.  I had to track those people down.  Ask them how they managed to do what they did.  Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it.  If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms."  His lips curled away in a toothy shark grin.  "No, it's been a lot of work, Harry.  It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know.  You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

As Ron and Harry gaped at Lockhart, dumbfounded, an image crept unbidden into Aeryn's mind.  _"I know the truth behind those books," the Potions master whispered into the struggling wizard's ear.  "Two words, Lockhart. Memory. Charm."_

_*Devious chap, isn't he?* _Riddle whispered.  _*Precisely why he and I got along so well_…._*_

Lockhart banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.  He pulled out his wand from his sleeve and turned to face the boys.  Any semblance of geniality had been wiped from his visage, leaving in its place a cold, vicious leer.  "Awfully sorry, boys," he purred, leveling his wand at them, "but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now.  Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place.  I'd never sell another book—"

Harry's hand skidded for his wand, but before either of them could do anything, a curse echoed through the air and Lockhart's office door flung open.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor whirled on his heel and jerked his wand up, but his black-robed intruder was quicker.  A harsh cry of _"Expelliarmus!" _split the air, and Lockhart was blasted backward, slamming against his trunk with a sickening crunch.

Professor Snape crossed the room in two huge steps and grabbed the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher by the throat.  "What did you do to her?" he snarled, his face darkened by a horrible mixture of anguish and rage.

Lockhart gurgled.  His hand snaked across the floor for his dropped wand, but Snape savagely trod on his wrist, and Lockhart yelped in pain.

_"Tell me!" _Snape roared, his normally clear voice thick and broken as he slammed Lockhart's shoulders against the trunk.  "Tell me what you did to her, you bastard, or I swear to you that I will siphon your brains through your nose with a straw."

A harsh noise rasped from Lockhart's throat, and it took Aeryn a second before she realized he was chuckling.  "Oh, Severus," he murmured, his periwinkle-blue eyes glinting.  "You've really got it bad, old chap."  He probably would have said more, had not Snape's hands tightened further around his neck, cutting off his words into a strangled squeak. 

"You will tell me everything you know about the Chamber of Secrets," Snape growled into the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's ear.  "And then you will take me there, and you had best _pray _I find Miss Blake alive, or else—"

But his words were suddenly stifled in his throat, and he froze as the point of Harry's wand dug into his back.

Aeryn's attention immediately turned to her two friends.  Confusion was written plainly across their faces, but both their wands had leapt into their hands, and their eyes were glittering with an emotion akin to hate as they stared at the two professors.

"Yes, Harry," Lockhart croaked eagerly.  "Help me."

"Stay out of this, Potter, it has nothing to do with you!" the Potions master barked.

Harry's jade-green eyes narrowed.  "If it has to do with Aeryn, it has to do with me and Ron," he said bravely.

"Then—you should be worrying about him—" Lockhart rolled his gaze up to Harry's face, his blue eyes as pleading as a puppy's whine.  "Do you know what he did to her, what he's _been _doing to her, for all these months?  Did you never wonder why she was always sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower?"  A hard, pouting look crossed his face.  "Why she received _such _good grades in Potions?"

"We already know all about that," Ron snapped, pointing his wand directly at Lockhart's face as Harry glared hatefully at Snape.  "Aeryn told us. A long time ago, in fact."

The Potions master had the good grace to look miserable.  "I can explain," he began slowly.

"Don't believe a word he says—" Lockhart interrupted, waving one hand feebly as the other tried to loosen Snape's grasp around his throat.

"And they should believe you, Gilderoy?" Snape hissed, his eyes snapping back to the other professor.  "You, who just tried to cast a—" 

"I don't see a reason why we should believe anything either of you say," Harry said smoothly, keeping his wand fixed on Snape.  Both of the professors fell silent, watching Harry and Ron warily.  Harry pointed a finger at the Potions master. 

"Let him get up, Snape," he said.

After a moment, Snape awkwardly got to his feet, pulling Lockhart up with him by the collar of his robe.

"Harry," Lockhart gasped, scrabbling at Snape's hand.  "Listen to me, Harry, I can—"

"Since you're so willing to talk, Gilderoy, why don't you tell them what you did to me?" Snape snarled, his coal-black gaze blistering into Lockhart's face.  "How extremely unlike you—I thought you would have taken any chance available to brag about your conquests."

"What are you talking about?" asked Ron, keeping his wand trained on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"He's insane," Lockhart said quickly, but squealed in pain as Snape maliciously dug the tip of his wand into his side.

"Stop it, both of you!" Harry snapped.

"Potter, Weasley, listen to me," said the Potions master, his coal-black eyes flickering to the students' faces.  His low voice was filled with intensity.  "Ever since school began, Lockhart has been feeding me a very powerful, very illegal substance called the Berserker's Mead.  It rendered me incapable of controlling my actions, and was the sole reason for my—behavior—towards Miss Blake."  Lockhart opened his mouth to protest, but pinched his lips back tightly together as Ron jabbed his wand towards him.  "However," Snape continued in an even voice, "I have ceased to take it since Christmas."

"That's a lie," Lockhart growled, struggling in Snape's grasp like a caged animal.  "He's been taking it every day—I can swear to it—"

"He _believes_ I have been taking it, but that is only because Miss Blake and I have worked to make it appear so," Snape snarled, glaring balefully at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  His lips twitched briefly, and Aeryn saw him suck in a deep breath.  "She has been helping me end my addiction, after which we planned to expose this snake in the grass for what he truly is."

The words froze Lockhart in mid-struggle.  He stared openly at the Potions master, the preliminary disbelief etching his face slowly corroding away to reveal a smoldering, furious rage.  Harry turned to Ron, his thin face slightly stunned yet highly skeptical. 

"I don't see why we should believe him," Ron muttered in response, then jerked his head towards Lockhart.  "But, then again, this git just tried to blast us with a Memory Charm. 'Least Snape's not done anything to us."  He snorted.  "Yet."

"Boys—" Lockhart again attempted to speak, but was stopped as Snape shook him roughly.

"Potter, Weasley," the Potions master said.  "It matters not whether you choose to believe me."  He gazed at them somberly, and Aeryn heard in his voice the echoes of desperation.  "The important thing now is to find Miss Blake, if she's still alive.  At this point in time, nothing else matters."

For a long, hard moment, Harry and Ron regarded Snape.  Then, with a sigh, they lowered their wands.  "True enough," Harry muttered, pushing a hand through his unruly black hair.  Ron glowered at Snape, but said nothing.

Lockhart gave a feeble smile of relief.  "Well, then, I suppose you can just let me go, and I'll—"

"And _you_ are going to take us right to her," Ron said shortly, pointing his wand directly into Lockhart's handsome face.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor blanched.

"What d'you want me to do?" said Lockhart weakly.  "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is.  There's nothing I can do."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Aeryn's mind was sucked back down through the floor like water siphoning down a drain; down, down, down, until she was back in the chill air of the Chamber of Secrets.

"Just as I planned," Tom mused, and Aeryn opened her eyes in time to see a satisfied smile curve his lips.

Hatred lanced through Aeryn's heart.  "Professor Snape—" she gasped, clawing at the feet of statue until she attained a sitting position.  "Harry and Ron might not know what to do with you, but Professor Snape will—"

_"Professor Snape," _sneered Riddle mockingly, and his chilling chuckle rang through the Chamber."Believe me, Aeryn, I know how to handle your cherished Potions master." 

Aeryn's muscles gave way, and she slumped against the statue with a small cry.  Quivers ran up and down her entire body, and she was weak, so very weak, it was almost as if the air itself was sucking the energy from her body.  She wanted to sob, but she would not—_could _not—give the misty-edged boy that satisfaction.  With a remnant of her usual fortitude, Aeryn weakly tossed her head and leveled her gaze at him. 

"Tom," she said with as much strength as she could muster.

"Yes, Aeryn?"

She drew a deep breath.  "Let me see what's going on."

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you wish to do that?" he asked.  "You're becoming very weak, my dear.  Too much exertion might incapacitate you totally, and you surely don't wish for that."

"Humor me," Aeryn exclaimed, unable to keep the waspish edge from creeping into her voice.

"And why should I do that?" he asked lazily, watching her with disinterested eyes.

_Because, you bastard, you've treated the basilisk with more gentleness than me since I've been down here, _she wanted to snap, but instead she fixed him with a cold glare and replied just as lazily, "I find your conversation to be less than stimulating."

Tom Riddle threw back his head and laughed heartily.  "Since you insist, my dear," he said in an amused way, waving his hand, and suddenly—

—Aeryn looked around quickly.  She was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, where Harry, Ron, Snape, and Lockhart were standing in front of a sink—one, Aeryn remembered indistinctly, that had never worked since she had been there.  Snape had Lockhart by the collar and was spinning the other professor's wand between the fingers of his free hand.  Suddenly, there was a hissing noise like sizzling grease, and at once the tap of the sink glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin.  Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Ron gasped, Harry's eyes opened wide, and Lockhart gulped.

_*Do you remember that, Aeryn?* _Tom asked her.  _*That's how you arrived down here.*_

"I'm going down there," Harry said determinedly before Aeryn could think up a suitable response.

"Me too," said Ron automatically, his face pale beneath his freckles.

"As will I," said Snape in a low voice. 

There was a pause as everyone stared at the large pipe.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," said Lockhart, with a shadow of his old smile.  "I'll just—"

Three wands jerked up to point at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor before he could say another word.  "You can go first," Snape snarled, his coal-black eyes flashing.

White-faced and wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.  "Boys," he said, his voice feeble.  "Sev, what good will it do?"

"Don't call me Sev," snapped Snape, and jabbed Lockhart in the back with his wand.  The other man slid his legs into the pipe, his chin trembling only slightly.

"I really don't think—" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight.  The next instant, Harry slithered down the pipe after him, followed by Ron, who covered his eyes before sliding out of sight.  Snape paused just long enough to jam Lockhart's wand into his belt, then dove down the pipe after them.  After a long and slimy ride, they whizzed out of the pipe and landed with a wet thud on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in.

_*Your friends are smarter than I expected,* _Riddle murmured to her as Harry lit his wand and the four started off into the tunnel.  _*It took you nearly twice as long to get down here, and that was with me helping you along the way. I hope nothing happens to them…these tunnels are quite old, and haven't been used in a while…you never know what surprises are lurking around the turns.*_

_*They're ready for anything that might come their way,* _Aeryn snapped back bravely, anger rushing through her veins at the mock-sympathy tainting Riddle's words.  _*They're smart, and brave, and strong too—you have no idea how strong.*_

_*I think,* _Riddle whispered like an afterthought, _*you may be placing too much faith in them.*_

A loud gasp dragged Aeryn's consciousness back to her friends.  They were staring at a gigantic snakeskin, of a vivid, poisonous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel floor.

_The basilisk, _Aeryn thought in horror.

"Blimey," said Ron weakly.

There was a sudden movement as Gilderoy Lockhart's knees gave way.

"Get up," said Ron sharply, pointing his wand at Lockhart.

Lockhart got to his feet—then he dived at Ron, knocking him to the ground.  Harry and Snape jumped forward, but too late—Lockhart was straightening up, panting, Ron's wand in his hand and a gleaming smile back on his face.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he said triumphantly.  "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save Aeryn, and that you two boys _tragically _lost your minds at the sight of your friend's mangled body!" 

He turned to Snape, and his blue eyes glittered like knife blades.  "And as for you, _old _

_chap," _he hissed victoriously, "it's a _shame_ the monster got to you before I could kill it, though I tried, oh, how I tried!"  His smile broadened as the Potions master's hands stilled at his sides.  "Poetic picture, though, don't you think—you, clasping Aeryn to your chest with your dying breath, the two illicit lovers rotting in each others' arms for all eternity!  I'll make it the focus of my next book!"  He giggled, and Ron's wand shook in response.  "Say goodbye to your memories, gentlemen!"

As Lockhart raised Ron's Spellotaped wand high over his head, Snape moved with the speed of lightning.  The Potions master's wand leapt into his hand and he pointed it at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. 

_"Obliviate!" _Lockhart shrieked, but his voice was instantly drowned out by Snape's roar of _"Decimatium!"_

The spells collided with the force of a small bomb.  Aeryn watched with horror as Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snakeskin, out of the way of great chunks of rock that were thundering down.  Snape threw himself over Ron and pulled the boy to the floor, covering their heads with his arms as the tunnel ceiling showered around them.  A moment later, a huge cloud of dust hung in the air, and a solid wall of broken rock separated Harry from the rest of the group.

"Ron!" Harry shouted, coughing and trying to wave away the dust.  "Are you okay?  Ron!"

Ron leapt up and ran over to the wall.  "I'm here!" he cried.  "I'm okay."  After a second, he added, "So's Professor Snape."

On the other side of the wall, Snape crawled to his feet, his face murderous as he stared at Lockhart, who was wiping the rock dust away from his face with trembling hands.  Save for his tousled curls, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher looked fine, albeit slightly dazed.  Snape drew his wand from his belt and leveled it slowly at Lockhart as Ron and Harry regarded the stone wall, looking for an opening. 

"What now?" Ron said, sounding desperate.  "We can't get through—it'll take ages…."

Everyone looked up at the tunnel ceiling.  Huge, deep cracks fissured the rock, making it look as if at any second it would give way.

"I can probably break apart the rocks by magic," called Snape after a second.  "But only as a last resort—the whole tunnel might cave in on us."

Harry's brow furrowed, obviously thinking furiously about the situation.  On the other side of the wall, Ron turned quickly and kicked Lockhart in the shins.  Lockhart yelped, and a grim smile flickered across Snape's lips but was just as quickly erased.  Aeryn held her breath.  There was no way for them to move the rock quickly…not unless they used magic, but even then, it would take a good hour, and in that case—

"Wait there," Harry called suddenly to Ron and Snape.  "You two wait with Lockhart.  I'll go on…if I'm not back in an hour…."

Ron's face turned white, and there was a very pregnant pause.

"Snape and I'll—try and shift some of this rock," said Ron.  He cleared his throat and seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady.  "So you can—get back through. And, Harry—"

"See you in a bit," said Harry in a voice that was probably supposed to be filled with confidence but fell just slightly short.  He turned around and started down the tunnel.

"Potter!" yelled Snape. 

Harry halted and looked back over his shoulder.  On the other side of the wall, Aeryn watched as a myriad of warring emotions crossed the Potions master's lean face.  "Be careful," he exclaimed finally, his voice unusually rough.

Harry nodded silently, and set off alone past the giant snakeskin.  Aeryn watched him in disbelief as he began to make his way along the winding, serpentine tunnels.  Back on the other side of the stone wall, she heard Ron grunt as he strained to shift some of the rocks.  Snape motioned with his wand for Lockhart to help, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor clumsily got to his feet, his face a frozen mask of anger as—

_*Brave, brave little Harry,* _Riddle hissed, yanking their linked minds back into the Chamber. 

Aeryn lay motionless against the feet of the statue. The breath snagged in her chest, and it hurt to move.  Weariness smothered her.  She lifted her head slightly, groaning as pain erupted down the entire length of her body.

"He'll be here any minute now," Tom Riddle said musingly, his eyes fixing upon the far end of the Chamber.  Aeryn followed his gaze and saw, at the very end of the hall, a smooth stone wall on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.  "He's coming…I can almost feel his presence…."

Unable to even make a sound, Aeryn slumped back against the feet of the stone wizard.  Her eyelids were heavy, as if they were made out of lead.  The dim light blurred in her eyes as dark spots danced before her vision, and she blinked, trying unsuccessfully to clear it.

There was a low creaking sound, and both Aeryn and Tom looked over at the end of the hall.  The entwined serpents parted as the wall cracked open, and the halves slid smoothly out of sight.

Aeryn's heart dropped as a small figure, trembling from head to foot, walked inside.

"Ah," Riddle said softly as Harry approached them.  "So, again, it begins."


	33. The Heir Of Slytherin

Chapter 33: The Heir of Slytherin 

Harry's footsteps echoed hollowly on the stone floor as he slowly walked further into the Chamber, looking around him warily with a drawn wand.  Aeryn's half-lidded gaze followed him sluggishly.  She longed to rise to her feet, to cry out, to warn him about Riddle, but she couldn't move.  Fear drugged her veins as he drew level with the last pair of pillars.  She saw the boy start as he saw the huge statue of the wizard towering above them.  His bottle-green eyes, wide in the dim light, traveled from the statue's face, down the robes, to the floor.  His gaze fell upon Aeryn, and he blanched as he saw her crumpled form at the statue's feet.

_"Aeryn!" _he muttered despairingly, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees.  "Aeryn—don't be dead—please don't be dead—" He flung his wand aside and slipped his arm under her shoulders.  Her head lolled back as he lifted her slightly.  

With a tremendous effort, Aeryn forced the smallest of groans through her lips.

_"Aeryn!" _Harry cried, his voice a mixture of joy and chagrin.

"Harry…" she whispered.  Her eyelids struggled to open further, and she saw his white face overhead, furrowed with concern.  She licked her lips and tried to speak, but the words…the effort was too great….

Harry grunted and tried to lift her to her feet, but she was too heavy, and they fell back against the floor.  "Aeryn, c'mon—" he pleaded— "Ron and Professor Snape are back in the tunnel—we've got to get you out of here—" He again tried to lift her, but failed. "Please, Aeryn, get up—"

"She can't get up," said the soft voice of Tom Riddle.

Harry jumped and spun around on his knees.  Tom was leaning against a pillar, his eyes roving intently over Harry's face.  Aeryn shuddered as she felt an intense, terrifying _hunger _radiating in waves from him, the same hunger she had felt the first night she had written in the diary, only it was more concentrated, more…_real_….

"Tom—_Tom Riddle?" _ Harry gasped.  Tom nodded, a small smile flickering on his lips.  Harry looked back down at Aeryn, lying motionless in his arms. "What d'you mean, she can't get up?" he said desperately.  "Is she—she can't be—"

"She's too weak," said Riddle.  "She's only just clinging to life.  But she's a fighter."

Harry stared at the boy, his face a mask of confusion.  Aeryn's wavering gaze fell upon the misty form of Tom Riddle, and she realized with a start that the boy's form, which at the beginning of the day had been almost translucent, was suddenly sharper, more defined.  And then she felt the trembling of her muscles, and how very weak she suddenly was—and the horrible thought crossed her mind that, perhaps, _Tom _was the reason why she was so weak…that he was somehow leaching the life out of her to make himself stronger….

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"A memory," Riddle said quietly.  "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."  He stretched out one long finger and pointed at the diary, lying forgotten at the feet of the stone wizard, and as Harry's eyes followed the movement, Aeryn tried to scream, to struggle, to melt the sluggishness from her muscles so she and Harry could _get away _from this place, but was answered only by her sickening weakness—

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry pleaded, raising Aeryn's head in his arms.  "We've got to get her out of here.  There's a basilisk…I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment…." Aeryn's head flopped to the side as Harry managed to hoist her half off the floor, and his free hand spidered across the floor for his wand.  "Please, help me—"

"Are you looking for this?" Riddle asked calmly. 

Aeryn's half-closed gaze rolled to him.  Riddle was twirling Harry's wand between his long fingers.  

"Thanks," said Harry, stretching out his hand for it.

A smile curled the corners of Riddle's mouth.  He continued to stare at Harry, twirling the wand idly.  Alarm bells began to peal warningly in Aeryn's brain, and for the first time, she could feel the slow trickle of life siphoning from her body, feel herself growing weaker and weaker—

"Listen," said Harry urgently.  _"We've got to go!  _If the basilisk comes—"

"It won't come until it is called," said Riddle calmly.

The alarms ringing inside her head roared into full-fledged sirens.

"What d'you mean?" Harry said.  "Look, give me my wand, I might need it—"

Riddle's smile broadened.  "You won't be needing it," he said.  

Harry stared at him.  "What d'you mean, I won't be—"

"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," Riddle interrupted smoothly.  "For the chance to see you.  To speak to you."

"Look," exclaimed Harry, "I don't think you get it.  We're in the _Chamber of Secrets.  _We can talk later—"

"We're going to talk now," said Riddle, still smiling broadly, and he pocketed Harry's wand.

Her breath was coming in shallow, sluggish gasps.  Her eyelids fluttered shut…it was so hard to keep them open…so heavy…but Aeryn garnered her slowly-draining strength and heaved them open.  Harry stared at Riddle, an odd anxiety creeping across his features.

"How did Aeryn get like this?" he asked slowly.

"Well, that's an interesting question," exclaimed Riddle pleasantly.  He brushed his long fingers across his forehead.  "And quite a long story.  I suppose the main reason Aeryn Blake is like this is because she opened up her heart a little too much to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" said Harry.

"The diary," said Riddle.  _"My_ diary.  For the past few months, dear Aeryn's been writing to me, trying to get me to tell her about the secret of the Chamber of Secrets.  And my, what interesting tidbits she's disclosed about herself in exchange!"  He smiled, and the gesture was as cold as polar ice.  "By any chance, Harry, has she ever told you what her _true _genetic mutation is?  Or how many people she's killed?  You might be surprised."  

Aeryn moaned in protest.  Riddle laughed suddenly, a high-pitched giggle that did not suit him.  "Ah, so she still has a bit of the fight left in her!  Very good, my dear.  Keep trying, although I don't know what good it will do now."

Harry gazed down at her in shock.  _It's not…like that, _Aeryn wanted to say, but her lips had turned into immovable stone.

"How did she—" Harry began shakily.

"But Aeryn's personal past is only one part of the story, Harry," Riddle said quietly.  A hard, knowing glint darkened his eyes.  "I think the real reason we're down here has to do with your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

Aeryn's heart thudded loudly in her chest.

Harry blinked.  "Lockhart?" he said after a second, his voice filled with skepticism.  "But he's incompetent—"

"Yes, he is, isn't he," sneered Riddle.  "And very self-centered, too.  He had me first, you see, and he wrote to me for months and months, telling me all about himself, his desires, his pseudo-successes.  It's very _boring_, having to listen to the silly troubles of an egomaniac.  But I was patient.  I wrote back.  I was sympathetic, I was kind."  He smiled a toothy grin.  "And I was able to propose several solutions for his problems."  

_Snape was right, _Aeryn thought in dismay.  I _was right…_but her eye snagged distractedly on a tiny crack on the stone floor, and her thoughts dissipated into smoke.

"Once we both dropped our various charades, our relationship actually became somewhat enjoyable," Riddle continued. "Lockhart poured out his soul to me, and his soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of his darkest secrets, the pure, black _evil _that stains his soul."  He laughed his high-pitched laugh again.  "And there _is _evil there, Harry…raw, unadulterated, and shocking.  I grew powerful, far more powerful than silly Gilderoy Lockhart.  Powerful enough to start feeding him a few of _my _secrets, to start pouring a little of _my _soul back into him…."

Aeryn was able to drag her gaze back up to him.  There was a definite edge surrounding his silhouette now, and she suddenly realized that she could no longer feel the tips of her fingers.

"What d'you mean?" said Harry, whose face had gone marble-white.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly.  "Gilderoy Lockhart opened the Chamber of Secrets.  He set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods and the Squib's cat."

Resting in his arms, Aeryn could feel Harry twitch slightly at Riddle's words.  There was a very long pause.  "What?" the boy gasped in disbelief.  "I don't…"

Riddle gave a bored wave of his hand.  "Eventually, though, Lockhart became more trouble to control than he was worth.  He had all sorts of different ideas…'artistic license,' he called it, and the _demands _he had…" He sighed in disgust and rolled his eyes.  Crossing his arms across his chest, he stared piercingly down his nose at Harry in a very Snape-like gesture.  "So I used my control over him to get him to dispose of the diary.  And that's where _you _came in, Harry.  You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted.  Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was _you, _the very person I was most anxious to meet…."

"And why did you want to meet me?" said Harry, and Aeryn could hear a blistering anger in his voice even as he fought to keep it steady.

"Well, you see, Lockhart told me all about you, Harry," said Riddle.  "Your whole _fascinating _history."  His eyes roved over the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, and their expression grew hungrier.

The numbness had spread to the palms of her hands now.

"Why on earth would he do that?" Harry spat.  Aeryn could feel his arms trembling.  "All he wants to do is talk about himself, how great he is, how—"

"Because, Harry," said Riddle softly, "you were the _one person_ in Hogwarts with more fame than he.  You wouldn't believehow much that burned him, that just the mere mention of your name would cause a crowded room to suddenly fall silent."  His upper lip curled away in a sneer, and he began to recite in a high, mocking voice: _"'Tom, I can't stand this!  After the ceremony, everyone was talking, _not _about how _I _was the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but _Harry Potter_, how he crashed some stupid flying car into a stupid magical tree!_  _Tom, the Dueling Club was a disaster…I might as well have just put a notice out for the Harry Potter fan club!  Apparently, he can talk to snakes or some such nonsense…is that any fitting reward for me, the _day _after I break my back to give the students some fun, to have them instead _only _talk about Potter this, Potter that_…._'"_

_Serves him right, _Aeryn thought listlessly.

"I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could," said Riddle.  "So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust—"

"Hagrid's my friend," hissed Harry, his voice now shaking.  "And you framed him, didn't you?  I thought you made a mistake, but—"

Riddle snickered.  "Exactly what Aeryn thought, Harry.  But I'm coming to her.  It was my word against Hagrid's fifty years ago.  Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet.  On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so _brave, _school prefect, model student…on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls…but I admit, even _I _was surprised how well the plan worked.  I thought _someone _must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin.  It had taken _me _five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance…as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"

Aeryn's hands hung like dead weights at the ends of her arms, and she realized indolently that her feet were two solid blocks of ice.

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent.  He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper.  Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed…Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," growled Harry through gritted teeth.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle carelessly.  "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school.  But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it.  I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it," said Harry triumphantly.  "No one's died this time, not even the cat.  In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again—"

"Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore?  For many months now, my new target has been—_you."_

A queer terror lanced through Aeryn's heart, and she found enough energy to pull open her fluttering eyelids and stare at the boy from the diary.  Riddle's face was pensive, and his eyes were very bright as he stared penetratingly at Harry.  

"Imagine how angry I was next time my diary was opened," he said in a very, very soft voice, "and it was a young woman writing to me, not you.  But when I found out it was our Aeryn, I couldn't have been more pleased."  

His hot gaze turned to her.

"Do you know what she told me?" he said, his voice redolent with amusement.  "She said that you'd let her _borrow _me, so she could use me for a _sociological experiment."  _He giggled, sending chills up and down Aeryn's spine.  "Ah, well, I told her a few lies as well.  I said that you, Harry, had written to me about her.  In actuality, everything I knew about the lovely Miss Blake came from the poison pen of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart."  

He raised an eyebrow.  "Would you care to hear a few lines?  _'Tom—ah, Tom—she wore my favorite robe to class today.  Clinging silk that outlines every curve, and a low, scooping neckline that tauntingly reveals a most tantalizing glimpse of her delicious cleavage…I had her write a few lines on the board during class, and she accidentally dropped the chalk.  She had to bend down to retrieve it and—well, it's a good thing I was sitting behind my desk and my robes are so voluminous!  I was hardly able to wait until the class finished before I could hurry into my back room and—" Tom broke off, his face twisted into a leer.  "But I should stop there—the rest isn't suitable for the ears of children."_

Aeryn almost gagged.  Harry's face was screwed up in a mixture of revulsion and rage.

"But I instantly saw a use for our pretty Miss Aeryn," Riddle said.  "It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir.  From everything Lockhart had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery—particularly if one of your best friends was attacked.  Unfortunately, my hold on Lockhart had slipped over the months—through my own will, of course.  As I said, he was far too much of a trouble to keep."  

He pointed a long finger to Aeryn's crumpled form.  "Aeryn, on the other hand, was so willing.  So selfless.  And what a melodramatic turn of phrase!  _'Forgive me for being naïve or easily misled, Tom, but for some reason I can't believe Hagrid would do such a terrible thing as unleash the creature of the Chamber upon Hogwarts.'"  _His snigger echoed menacingly against the walls of the Chamber.  "You could be a novelist, my dear, you really could."

_It's almost like air escaping slowly from a tire, _Aeryn thought dreamily, feeling the gentle tug of her life-force as it escaped from her body.  The numbness had spread upwards to her elbows and her knees, and the rest of her body was tingling, as if she had just scrubbed her skin with a loofah. 

"But I needed more from her than just words, I needed something _real_, some _raw emotion—_and it was so _very _easy indeed, when the promise of information was held out before her."  He smiled evilly.  "You really should get her to tell you her sob story sometime, Harry.  _'My parents were murdered…I've never spoken to anyone about it.  I didn't have any magical power, but my father told me to take his, to go to England to find others of our own kind_…._'"  _

Aeryn was able to glance over at him in time to see him unsuccessfully smother a laugh.  "And the teardrop at the end of the story was absolutely superb!  The _piéce de résistance_, if I may say so myself."He mockingly kissed his fingertips in an overly dramatic motion.  "Oh, she was such a Gryffindor, pouring her heart out to a complete stranger in order to save her friend Hagrid from languishing in prison!  But if I may say so, Harry, I've always been able to charm people to get what I need from them."

Harry hadn't moved.  He seemed utterly beyond words.  Aeryn wondered distantly whether her heart would stop beating once the numbness reached it.

"She had poured just enough of herself into me for what I wanted," said Riddle.  "With Lockhart's inherent evil and her life force, I was able to leave the pages of the diary at last."

"How did Aeryn get down here?" she heard Harry ask, as if from far, far away.

"Oh, that was simple." Riddle shrugged and rolled his eyes, as if Harry had just asked him how much two plus two equaled.  "I made her write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait.  I must say, she hasn't been quite as boring as I expected.  But then again, it's always intriguing to find a fellow mutant with a sharp enough wit to match my own…."

Aeryn's eyes spasmed open wide.

"Fellow mutant?" Harry asked in a confused voice.

His only answer was a cold, cruel smile that twisted Riddle's features.

_Ah, so that's it, _Aeryn thought absently.

"I've been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here," Riddle whispered, but a furious intensity echoed in his tones.  "I knew you'd come.  I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat.

"Well," said Riddle, "how is it that _you—_a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent—managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?  How did _you _escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

There was an odd red gleam in his hungry eyes now, and something stirred in Aeryn's heart.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly.  "Voldemort was after your time…"

"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter…"

He pulled Harry's wand from his pocket and began to trace it through the air, writing three shimmering words:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

Then he waved the wand once, and the letters of his name rearranged themselves:

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

Through the numbness leaching the energy from her body, Aeryn felt a lancing thrill of horror that echoed into the very marrow of her bones.

"You see?" Riddle whispered.  "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course.  You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever?"  His eyes were smoldering.  "I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side?  I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch?"  He laughed, but this time it was a splintering sound that broke painfully in Aeryn's eardrums.  "No, Harry—I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

The horror of Riddle's words had eaten through even the numbness that paralyzed Aeryn's body.  Above her, she could see Harry's face drain of whatever color had remained, and his jade-green eyes gazed despairingly at the other boy…the boy that had grown up to slay Harry's parents…

_This can't be happening, _she thought blindly, her mind spinning like a top.  The world was swirling wildly around her…she felt the trickle of life oozing slowly from her…

"You're not," Harry said, his quiet voice full of hatred.  

His arm slipped from beneath Aeryn's shoulders and he slowly got to his feet, his hands clenching to fists at his sides.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast.  "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore.  Everyone says so.  Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts.  Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days—"

The smile had gone from Riddle's face, to be replaced by a very ugly look.  "Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere _memory _of me!" he hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!"  Harry retorted, a snarl curving his lips.  

Aeryn's eyelids fluttered.  _So weak_….__

Riddle opened his mouth but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere.  Riddle whirled around to stare down the empty Chamber.  The music was growing louder.  It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Aeryn's scalp and made her heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size, for a moment breaking her from the deadness soaking her body.  Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Aeryn felt it vibrating inside her ribs, fire erupted at the top of the nearest pillar and a glorious, crimson bird the size of a swan arose from the dancing flames.

It trilled a loud, thrilling note that shook the vaulted ceiling of the Chamber like a church bell.  It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.  A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry.  It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, and then in a brilliant flash of feathers, fluttered down to land on Aeryn's stomach.

Warmth immediately spread through her from the bird's taloned feet.  It had stopped singing and was staring steadily at Riddle.

"That's a phoenix…" said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

Harry turned and stared at the bird.  _"Fawkes?" _he breathed.  

Aeryn's blurry gaze met the clear black eyes of the phoenix, and her blood stirred suddenly within her.  Fawkes dipped his head and gave a long, low whistle.

"And _that—" _said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat—"

Fawkes' brilliant gaze darted to Aeryn's limp hand; then he bent his head and preened his scarlet feathers quickly with his sharp beak.  He cocked his head and looked pointedly at her hand again, giving a thrilling call.  As Aeryn stared puzzledly at the bird, a fuzzy, half-formed idea began to stir in her brain.  A hiss of breath escaped her lips, and her hand twitched slightly at her side.

Riddle began to laugh again, so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once.  "This is what Dumbledore sends his defender!  A songbird and an old hat!  Do you feel brave, Harry Potter?  Do you feel safe now?"

With slow, agonizing movements, Aeryn's hand crawled awkwardly up from the floor, up her body, and flopped to rest against Fawkes' taloned feet.  She strained to lift her hand further, but she only succeeded in convulsing her fingers against the smooth golden talons of the phoenix.  The scarlet bird trilled shrilly and dipped his gleaming head in a sudden movement, thrusting his beak beneath the palm of her hand.

 "To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly.  "Twice—in _your _past, in _my future—_we have met.  And twice I failed to kill you.  _How did you survive?  _Tell me everything.  The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive."

Fawkes lifted his head, and Aeryn's hand slid down the bird's neck to rest against the supple feathers of his back.  The numb tips of her fingers dug slightly into the resilient crimson fluff.  An indistinct memory, almost misted away from weariness, moved faintly within her….

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," said Harry abruptly.  "I don't know myself.  But I know why you couldn't _kill _me."

Her heavy eyelids dropped and Aeryn concentrated, drawing strength from a long-buried source locked deep away within her….

"Because my mother died to save me," Harry whispered, and his voice shook with suppressed rage.  "My common _Muggle-born _mother."

A tingling began to smolder in her numb fingertips, like frozen skin being held in front of a roaring fire, and she began to _pull, _latching onto the phoenix's life-force.  Seconds later, a rushing surge like a typhoon flooded through her body as she drew from Fawkes' energy, burning the numbness away with amazing speed, and the fuzziness of her vision was swept away like grime from glass, and every muscle in her body was instantly alert, and she could _feel, _she could _see—_

"She stopped you killing me."  Harry's voice was growing stronger and stronger.  "And I've seen the real you, I saw you last year.  You're a wreck.  You're barely alive.  That's where all your power got you.  You're in hiding.  You're ugly, you're foul—"

Aeryn could see Riddle's face clearly, contorting in a hideous anger as he stared at Harry, and she forced herself to remain lying on the floor, crumpled at the feet of the statue so that he wouldn't notice her sudden burst of energy—but he was paying no attention to her. 

"So," he hissed.  An awful smile twisted his features.  "Your mother died to save you.  Yes, that's a powerful counter-charm.  I can see now…there is nothing special about you, after all.  I wondered, you see.  There are strange likenesses between us, after all.  Even you must have noticed.  Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles.  Probably the only two Parselmouths to come into Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself.  We even _look _something alike…but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me.  That's all I wanted to know."

Aeryn's hand slithered from Fawkes' back.  The phoenix cocked his head and, for a moment, Aeryn could have sworn he gave her a conspiring wink.  The faintest of grim smiles twitched the corners of her lips, and the muscles in Aeryn's legs bunched. 

Riddle's twisted smile widened.  "Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson.  Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…."

He cast an amused eye over Fawkes and the Sorting Hat, then turned to face the huge statue under which Aeryn lay.  Aeryn remained still as he stopped between the high pillars and looked up into the stone face of the wizard, high above him in the half-darkness.  Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed, and a low rumbling met him.

Aeryn's gaze flew to Harry.  The boy's face blanched with horror, and she rolled her eyes overhead to the great stone face of the wizard—the wizard that, she realized suddenly, was none other than the image of Salazar Slytherin.  In the half-lit gloom of the chamber, she could see Slytherin's mouth open wider and wider to make a huge black hole.  A slithering, scraping noise of scales against stone echoed in the still air, and her heart gave a great leap in her chest.

Riddle laughed again, the high-pitched sound ringing triumphantly in Aeryn's eardrums like a hundred glasses breaking, and she watched as Harry stumbled backwards against the wall of the Chamber—the heavy warm weight of Fawkes disappeared as the phoenix, with an eerie call, shot away from the statue—her strength had returned—and for one horrible instant, she heard the spitting hiss of the basilisk as it emerged from the mouth of Slytherin—

"HARRY!  SHUT YOUR EYES!"  

Her voice roared deafeningly in the quiet Chamber, and Aeryn leapt to her feet, screwing her eyelids shut.  An instant later something huge hit the floor of the Chamber with a sickening thud, and Aeryn, her blood singing with the power of Fawkes, threw her mind out before her in the absence of her sight.  A huge, poison-green serpent drew itself to its full height—Harry ran blindly to the other side of the Chamber—Tom Riddle, his misty face horrible to look upon, hissed furiously to the basilisk, which slid menacingly towards the boy—terror lancing through her veins, Aeryn threw herself towards her friend, her feet slipping on the smooth floor—

_*YOU!* _

Riddle's fury burst into her mind, and agony like a thousand beestings erupted throughout her body.  Aeryn shrieked and stumbled, but again she saw the basilisk launch itself towards Harry, and she gritted her teeth and _flung_ a telepathic wave right back towards Riddle.  The misty-edged boy wavered and an echoing reply of pain registered in the ether.  He growled and _launched _his mind again towards her, but she flung up an answering wave, catching him in a deadlock.

_*The bird—* _he snarled, pushing against her barrier.  _*I should have known—*_

_*Did you think I would just lie quietly by and let you kill Harry—* _Aeryn snarled back, struggling to keep him from breaking through._  *If so, you've sorely misjudged me, Tom—*_

Their minds clashed like broadswoards, and it was all Aeryn could do to keep Riddle from burning his way through her shield.  His rage filled her, enfolding her like a blanket of flame, stronger than anything she had ever before encountered.  She _shoved _at him with all her might, and for an instant he faltered backwards, and Aeryn threw her mind back towards Harry, back into the Chamber—

A loud, explosive spitting followed by a soft crunch echoed in the Chamber, only slightly masking a boy's choked, soft cry.  Aeryn whipped around, her mind-vision searching frantically in the direction of the sound, but before she could find the source, Tom's mind blistered into hers like acid.  A keening scream escaped her lips and she crumpled to her knees, her tightly-shut eyes watering, and she gasped for breath—Harry—the basilisk—

A horrible hissing noise split the air—she couldn't help it—her muscles quivering in pain, Aeryn cracked open her streaming eyes—

The enormous basilisk, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars.   A weird whistle scintillated from the vaulted ceiling, and she saw Fawkes soaring around the serpent's head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers—

Fawkes dived.  His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor, and Aeryn saw—the eyes, the basilisk's great, bulbous yellow eyes had been punctured by the phoenix—blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony—she heard an angry roar from Riddle, and she _launched _her mind back towards him.

She met a wall of solid, powerful, frenzied wrath.

_"NO!" _The words Riddle screamed were inParseltongue, but, locked in struggle with his mind, she understood him as clearly as if he was speaking English.  _"LEAVE THE BIRD!  LEAVE THE BIRD!  THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU!  YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM!  KILL HIM!"  _

Aeryn pulled herself to her feet and arrowed her mind towards Riddle, slicing through the ether like a dagger, but the boy from the diary batted it wildly aside, and Aeryn's insides suddenly burned as if someone had poured liquid bleach into her veins.  She choked back the scream in her throat and _shoved _back towards him—

"Help me—" 

Harry's wild, strangled cry, jerked Aeryn's attention immediately back to the Chamber.  "Someone—anyone—"

Riddle's snarl echoed in the ether, and Aeryn quickly _pulled _her consciousness away from him.  As he faltered at her sudden disappearance, she desperately threw herself across the floor towards her friend.  

_*You won't get away that easily,* _Riddle hissed, and Aeryn's movements were stilled as he caught her in a huge, invisible net.  _*You don't stand a chance, mutant—soon your little friend will be stew meat for my pet, and then I'll have enough time to shred your brain to pieces, one gray cell at a—KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD!  THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU!  SNIFF—SMELL HIM!*  _

Aeryn forced her muscles back into her own control and sent a whirling wave of telepathic force towards Riddle.  _*You can't talk your way out of this one, Tom,* _she growled.  _*For all your words, you're nothing but a fifty-year-old memory trapped in a diary—intangible, unable to affect anything—Harry will destroy your _pet_ and then we'll send you back into the diary where you belong, and this time you'll never get back out—*_

_*You underestimate me,* _shrieked the boy who would become Lord Voldemort, and Aeryn felt his fury wash over her like a monsoon._ *Even as you strike against me, I grow stronger—can't you feel your life siphoning away?  The phoenix bought you a little time, but not enough—not enough—*_

Aeryn _swiped _at him with all the strength she could garner, and Riddle gave a horrible scream, pulling his mind away from her and falling against the pillar as he writhed in pain.  She reared back to smash into him one final time, but the breath caught in her throat, and her knees suddenly buckled.  With a strangled cry, she crashed onto the floor, a sharp pain lancing through her side.  She scrabbled frantically for her powers—but then felt the numbing ache lightning through her fingertips, and in an instant she felt a savage _yank _from Riddle and she groaned, feeling the life force leach from her—

—shockwaves of pain blistered the ether, and she opened her eyes and looked towards the end of the Chamber—

—as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching to the floor.  Her gaze fogged like breath on a window, and she was only able to barely see Harry slide down the wall, gripping his elbow.

"No," she gasped, and hobbled across the floor to the boy.  She got to his side just in time to see his bottle-green eyes glaze over as he slumped against the wall.  She looked down at his body in horror, and saw, protruding from his elbow, the bone-white splinter of a basilisk fang.

_"No—"  _But the rest of her cry died in her throat as Riddle fiercely slammed back into her.  The remaining energy within her tore away as if it had been cut roughly with a knife.  Aeryn folded weakly to the ground.  In a swirl of color, Fawkes fluttered to rest next to Harry, and laid his beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang pierced him.

Footsteps echoed off the stone floor, and then a dark shadow moved in front of them.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him.  "Dead.  Even Dumbledore's bird knows it.  Do you see what he's doing, Potter?  He's crying."

Aeryn felt like crying herself.  

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter.  Take your time.  I'm in no hurry."

Aeryn struggled to rise and weakly sent out her mind questing towards Harry, but despair crept through her as she felt the slowing throb of his heart.  The basilisk's poison already seeped through his veins.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice.  "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged.  You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry…she bought you twelve years of borrowed time…but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…." 

Rage surged through her at Riddle's taunting words, and with the rage came energy.  Gritting her teeth, Aeryn gathered her slowly-waning strength around her like a coat of armor.  Her mind began to whirl, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position. 

"Get away, bird," Riddle said suddenly.  "Get away from him—I said, _get away—_

Aeryn looked over and saw Harry giving his head a little shake, his gaze suddenly lucid.  His wound was surrounded with Fawkes' pearly tears…except there _was _no wound…There was a loud bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears…" said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm.  "Of course…healing powers…I forgot…."

He did not notice as Aeryn rose to her feet, her slate-blue eyes fixed wrathfully upon his now-sharp outline.  Once again, in her mind's eye, she saw the still-vivid image of her mother's throat being slashed…heard her father's dying gurgle…. 

Riddle looked into Harry's face.  "But it makes no difference.  In fact I prefer it this way.  Just you and me, Harry Potter…you and me…."

—with a choked growl, she drew from every last remaining bit of energy—

He raised the wand—

The ether crackled as her mind scorched into his with all the fury of an immolating firestorm.  The wand clattered from his fingertips as Riddle screamed, clasping his long fingers to the sides of his heads and whipping back and forth in agony.  He writhed like a serpent in her grasp, and Aeryn clung to him, refusing to give way.  She twisted her head, turning her eyes away from Riddle and concentrating—and her gaze fell upon the feet of the statue.  The black diary was lying open, its white pages _pulsating _with a gleaming light—and immediately, with startling clarity, Aeryn knew what had to be done.

With a telekinetic _tug, _the little black diary flew across the Chamber and dropped to rest in Harry's lap.

Harry's head jerked up and met Aeryn's gaze.  For an instant, no one moved.  Then, with the speed of lightning, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.

Pain erupted in Aeryn's mind, and a long, dreadful, piercing scream rang through the Chamber.  Riddle fell to the floor, writhing and twisting, and Aeryn violently pulled her mind as far away as she could from him, her body throbbing with his agony as he continued to scream and flail, and then—

A cooling absence rushed over her mind, and Riddle was gone.  

Silence filled the Chamber like smoke.

Aeryn's knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor with a low groan.  The adrenaline had fled from her veins, and her breath was shallow in her chest as she rested her forehead against the stone floor.  She closed her eyes wearily.  

_It was over._

She could feel the energy pulse back into her body, all of her life that had been used to pull Tom from the diary, spreading tingling warmth through her skin.  Aeryn pushed herself into a kneeling position, and her gaze wandered across the Chamber to rest on Harry.  His robes were covered in basilisk blood, and in one hand he held a glittering, jeweled sword.  He bent down to pick up the Sorting Hat from the floor, but as he heard her stirring, he halted and turned to look at her.

For a long, long moment, they stared at each other.

"Harry—" Aeryn said finally.  Her voice was rough and trembling, and she swallowed to clear it.  "Oh, Harry—I swear—I only took the diary because I thought—I thought—I could—"

But she was unable to complete her words, for Harry dropped the Sorting Hat and the sword with a loud clatter and raced across the Chamber towards her.  He dropped to his knees at her side and flung his arms around her in a huge, relieved hug.  

With a half-sob, Aeryn buried her head in her friend's shoulder and embraced him tightly.  Neither of them spoke as they remained locked in each other's arms, silently gathering strength from each other.

_It was over._

Finally, Harry pulled away from her and gave her a brilliant, thankful smile.  "C'mon, Aeryn," he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her to her feet.  "Let's get out of here."

Harry retrieved his wand and the glittering sword while Aeryn scooped the tattered Sorting Hat from the Chamber floor.  For a moment, she was tempted to plop it on her head, but shrugged the urge away and reached down for the little black diary.  Its pages dripped with ink, and the ragged hole left by the basilisk tooth scarred the spine.  She paused and stared at the book, noting how _normal _it felt.  She and Harry walked to the Chamber entrance where Fawkes waited for them, hovering.  

"Thank you, Fawkes," Aeryn said softly, and was answered by the bird's low, thrilling whistle.

She and Harry stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk and headed back into the tunnel.  The stone doors closed behind them with a soft hiss.

After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached their ears.

"Ron!" Harry yelled, speeding up.  "Professor Snape!  Aeryn's okay!  I've got her!"

She heard Ron give a strangled cheer.  Aeryn gathered her slime-stained skirts in one hand and jogged down the corridor, her feet slapping against the stone floor.  She turned the next bend to see Ron's eager face staring through the sizeable gap they had managed to make in the rock fall.

_"Aeryn!"  _Ron's face was shining like the sun as he stretched out a hand to her.  "You're alive!  I don't believe it!  What happened?"  He grabbed hold of one of her arms and tried to pull her through the hole, but there was a sudden weakness in Aeryn's limbs, and she was unable to heave herself over the rocks. 

"Let me, Weasley."

Ron disappeared from view as Professor Snape pushed him to the side and reached through the hole to grasp Aeryn's upper arms.  Aeryn barely had time to place her foot on the edge of the hole when the Potions master pulled her through with a powerful tug.  She slipped on the loose stones with the sudden motion, and stumbled into him as she hit the floor on the other side.

"Professor—" she mumbled, but before she could speak another word, Snape wordlessly wrapped his arms around her and folded her to his chest in a powerful embrace.

For an instant, Aeryn froze.  On any other occasion, she would have flinched away, his touch far too reminiscent of times she would soon rather forget.  But instead, the breath sighed from her chest in a sound oddly like a sob, and she buried her face in his black robes.

She felt him press his lips against the top of her head, and he gently stroked her hair with long fingers that were trembling slightly.

"Um—" Ron said uncomfortably behind them.  "Where did that bird come from?"

"He's Dumbledore's," Aeryn heard Harry say, struggling a little as he squeezed through the hole.

"How come you've got a _sword?"_

"I'll explain when we get out of here," said Harry wearily.

With what seemed to be great reluctance, Snape lifted his head from Aeryn's hair.  He slipped a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head upwards until he was looking her full in the face.  

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, his voice uncommonly thick.  

Aeryn nodded wordlessly.  There was a brilliant intensity burning from the Potions master's coal-black gaze, an intensity so powerful it frightened her.  She tore her eyes away from his face and carefully stepped back, extricating herself from his embrace with difficulty.  

"Hey, 'Ryn," Ron said awkwardly, coming up from behind and putting his arms around her.  "Glad you're okay."  

Aeryn smiled weakly and returned the hug.

Snape cleared his throat noisily and turned to Harry, who was wiping the glittering sword on his blood-soaked robes.  "And you, Potter?" he said roughly, sounding a bit more professorial.  "Were you hurt?"

"Um—" Harry began.

As Aeryn and Ron stepped away from each other, a warm touch suddenly slithered up her arm.  Startled, Aeryn whirled around, and looked straight into the visage of Gilderoy Lockhart.  

"Miss Blake," he purred, his toothy signature grin crawling across his features.  "So glad to see you alive and well."

Aeryn screamed. 

Instantly, three wands jerked up and pointed straight at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, freezing him in his tracks.  Shaking from head to foot, Aeryn backed away slowly.  Lockhart's periwinkle-blue eyes were wide as the other three glowered at him with hatred.

"You will stay away from her," Snape hissed, wrath written plainly across his features.

"Or what?" Lockhart snapped sullenly, not even attempting to look charming.  He flung his arms out to the side and motioned towards Aeryn.  "I was only trying to—"

"Or," Harry interrupted in a voice filled with smoldering anger, "I will send you into the Chamber and leave you there to _rot."  _

"Really, Harry—" Lockhart began.

"Something's up with this one," Ron exclaimed, waving his wand menacingly at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  "We were moving the rocks, when suddenly not too long ago, this git here just fell to the ground, writing like someone was poking him with needles or something."  He shrugged, the expression on his face showing no sympathy.  "That lasted for a bit, and then he got up again, and he's just been sorta—well—" He motioned disgustedly towards Lockhart, whose face had gone blandly neutral and was now humming to himself.

_That must have been when Riddle was destroyed, _Aeryn thought to herself, crossing her arms across her chest so he couldn't see her hands trembling.  The thought did nothing to calm her nerves.  After all, once the boy from the diary had been banished, the life-force that had been feeding him had flowed back into her.  Was it so very unbelievable, then, that the portion of Lockhart that had been sustaining Tom would have returned to its original owner….

"Let's get out of here," Harry said, starting to head back up the tunnel.  The rest of the group followed him and they walked back to the mouth of the pipe.  

Harry bent down and peered up into the long dark pipe.  "Have you thought how we're going to get back up this?" he asked.

Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering ahead of them, his beady eyes bright in the dark.  He was waving his long golden tail feathers.

"He looks like you want to grab hold," said Ron, looking perplexed.  "But you're much too heavy for a bird to pull up there—"

"Fawkes," interrupted Aeryn quietly, "isn't an ordinary bird."  

Harry turned quickly to the others.  "We've got to hold on to each other.  Ron, you grab Aeryn's hand—and Professor Snape—" he glared murderously at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who was looking calmly around his surroundings.  "Grab hold of his hair or something."

Harry tucked the sword and his wand into his belt, Ron took hold of the back of Harry's robes and grabbed Aeryn's hand, Aeryn slipped her other hand into Snape's, and Snape roughly grasped Lockhart's collar.  Once they had all settled, Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes' tail feathers.

An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through her whole body, and in the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe.  The chill air was whipping through Aeryn's hair, and before she'd stopped enjoying the ride, it was over—all five of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and as Aeryn got to her feet, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.

She ran a hand down her robe, trying unsuccessfully to wipe away the clinging remnants of slime.  Even though it was her favorite school robe, she decided there was no help for it—the robe was ruined; no amount of magic or elbow grease was going to get it clean.  But it wasn't all bad, she told herself wryly as she glanced over quickly at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  According to Tom Riddle, this was Lockhart's favorite robe, too.__

Myrtle goggled at them.  "You're alive," she said blankly to Harry.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed," the boy said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses.

Aeryn watched as the Potions master ran a hand through his greasy black hair, streaking it further with oily green slime.  There was a smudge of dirt running down his left cheek, and Aeryn dearly wanted to hand him a handkerchief so he could wipe his face.  The innocent just-came-from-indoors-after-playing-in-the-mud look somehow didn't seem to suit him.

"Oh, well…I'd just been thinking…if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver.

"Thanks," Harry said sourly.

In a flurry of colored wings, Fawkes gently swooped down to rest on Aeryn's shoulder.  She patted the bird gratefully and looked around at the assembled group.  Harry righted his glasses on his nose and Ron stomped his foot on the floor, trying to knock the clinging mud from his shoe.  Snape finally pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face as Lockhart sauntered over to the cracked mirror.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor peered intently into the grimed surface, scratching his fingernail at the drying flecks of slime covering his face.

"Now what?" Ron asked, looking around at everyone.

"Now," Snape said abruptly.  The handkerchief disappeared and his voice took on its cold, clipped, professorial tone.  "We are going to the Headmaster's office, where you boys will tell Professor McGonagall exactly what just happened."  He strode over to the bathroom door, his damp robes slapping about his feet.  "And Miss Blake and I will explain to her the finally-ended saga of Professor Glideroy Lockhart."  

In the reflection of the mirror, Aeryn saw Lockhart's hands still.

A small, rueful smile warmed Snape's face. "And, of course, we will tell her about me," he murmured, pulling the door open with one hand.  

Shock and disbelief thudded through Aeryn's body.  Finally…after all these long months…it was _finally _going to be over.  Relief washed over her, but the emotion was strangely colored with…consternation.  But if Snape noticed the expression on her face, he kindly made no mention of it.

"If you don't mind my asking—" Harry said slowly, but fell silent as Aeryn looked pointedly at him and shook her head.  

"Trust me, guys," she exclaimed, putting her arms around the boys' shoulders and steering them towards the bathroom door.  Color fluttered ahead of them as Fawkes flew out the door and hovered, waiting for them in the hallway.  "I promise to tell you _everything—_after I've had a good, stiff drink."

She looked up, expecting to see something akin to a smile creasing Snape's face, but the breath froze in her throat as she saw the Potions master's eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder, a look of utter horror darkening his features.  

"What—"

With the speed of lightning, Snape leapt forward, grabbed Aeryn's shoulders, and roughly swung her around.  At the same instant, the bathroom door slammed shut, and the air was rent by the horrible, bestial cry of _"Eblaris charbonia!" _

The hands gripping her shoulders spasmed violently.  The Potions master's coal-black eyes widened and he gave a soft grunt.  Aeryn watched in shock as his normally sallow face blanched pale and, with a wet gurgle, he crumpled to the floor.

_"NO!!" _

It took Aeryn an instant to realize that the rage-filled scream was from the throat of Gildery Lockhart.  She looked up wildly and saw Lockhart, his features twisted almost beyond recognition, shaking a wand in his hand—_her wand_—Aeryn grabbed her sleeve but her fingertips only met cloth, and she vividly remembered his touch slithering up her arm in the subterranean tunnel—

_"Petrificus Totalus!  Petrificus Totalus!" _Lockhart shrieked, slicing the wand through the air like a sword, and she heard both Harry and Ron give sudden gasps as they were bound with the spell.  She glanced down—Snape's face had turned a sickeningly green hue and his eyes were rolling back in his head—the indrawn hiss of breath warned her and her gaze flew back up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—

But before she could leap for him, he spat the curse again.  Her limbs abruptly straightened and she toppled backwards against the wall of the bathroom, completely motionless.

Gilderoy Lockhart strode over to the twitching Potions master. "Severus, you _bastard!" _he yelled furiously.  Lockhart's cheeks were flushed with dark red, and his periwinkle-blue eyes were rabid with anger.  _"You—screw—up—everything!"  _He snarled and delivered a brutal kick to Snape's side, causing the other man to moan in pain.  "That spell—a spell which, may I add, can only be cast _once in a wizard's lifetime—_was intendedfor _Aeryn!"_  

He wiped a driblet of spittle from his lips, glaring down at the other professor.  "Ah, well, it might as well be for you, old chap.  At least it won't be wasted."  A harsh, horrible laugh rasped from his chest.  "Enjoy it—every long, agonizing, horrible second." 

Lockhart raised his blond head and his glittering blue gaze fixed balefully on her.  There was no beauty in his face, and the expression warping his features could have graced the visage of Lucifer himself.  Aeryn struggled to draw breath as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher gave a sniff and tossed a handful of curls from his face.

"It's a pity you didn't die in the Chamber, Aeryn," Lockhart spat through clenched teeth.  "A true pity.  It would have made things a whole lot easier if you weren't so damned resilient.  But, now, I suppose I've got to go with Plan B."  

Outside of the bathroom, she could hear the shrill scream of Fawkes as the bird launched itself against the closed bathroom door.

Lockhart brushed a hand down his robe, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles.  "I can't very well have all of you running around Hogwarts, spilling all my little secrets and telling everyone what I've done."  He raised his head and one eye shuttered in a mockingly conspiring wink. "Why, I'd never sell another book."

Aeryn strained against her locked muscles, but to no avail.  At her feet, there was a choking sound as Snape's body was wracked by a sudden seizure.  Lockhart gave a low, hysterical giggle as he stepped over the other teacher, and a sudden evil smile wreathed his face.

"And I've got such a good idea for the next one—" The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor stooped and grabbed the collar of Harry's robe.  He jerked the boy to his feet, the gesture slightly difficult because all of Harry's muscles were locked in the _Petrificus _spell.  Aeryn saw Harry's eyes widen behind his black-rimmed glasses.

Lockhart leered at Harry and ran his free hand down the boy's face hungrily.  "What would be better," he purred, "than for Magical Me, the wondrous Gilderoy Lockhart, five-times winner of _Witch Weekly's _Most Charming Smile award—" He threw back his blond head and laughed, sounding frighteningly like Tom Riddle—  "What would be a better public relations coup," he cried gleefully,  "than for me to defeat, in wand-to-wand combat, the Boy Who Lived, the famous—the celebrated_—Harry Potter?"_

Aeryn stared at him in disbelief.  She tried to speak, to make some noise, but her paralyzed vocal chords only succeeded in making a slight gurgle as she struggled to loosen her muscles.  But they had turned to lead, and she couldn't even lift a finger—

Lockhart tapped the tip of Aeryn's wand against Harry's cheek with a muttered word.  "Who," he hissed, "just because a little spell went awry, is a _million_ _billion _times more renowned than me, even after all I have accomplished—" He giggled again and tapped the wand against himself.  "Yes—Gilderoy Lockhart _will_ defeat Harry Potter—the boy that even Lord Voldemort failed to defeat, not once, but _three times—"  _ 

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor locked his fingers in Harry's robe, and then turned and placed a hand against the stone wall of the bathroom.  As if the stone were molasses, his hand submerged slowly into the wall without a sound.  

Frantically, Aeryn pulled against her motionless muscles until a burning pain spread through her body, trying vainly to scream her denial.  But she could do nothing.  Lockhart snickered one final time and threw himself and Harry against the wall.  Within instants they had been sucked away into the stone.

A horrendous keening erupted from Aeryn's throat and her eyes rolled back in their sockets as she concentrated all her mental energy inward and _tore _at her frozen muscles, tears streaming down her cheeks as the tendons were painfully ripped free, her fingers clawing the air as they were loosened.  Agonizing moments later, she reeled back against the wall, panting as twinges ran the length of her body.

She pulled open her streaming eyes and looked around the bathroom.  Myrtle had retreated to her stall and was sobbing morosely, the sound grating in Aeryn's ears like sandpaper.  Ron had clattered to the floor and was lying on his back, his brown eyes huge in his pale face.  And Professor Snape—

Aeryn dropped to her knees beside the Potions master.  She helplessly put a hand to his face, feeling the wet slick that had suddenly coated his skin.  Snape's face was as pale as egg whites, and his body was writhing on the floor as if he were being given electric shocks.  He gave a strangled cry, and as Aeryn took his head in her hands, trying to keep him from thrashing around, a blackish blood began to ooze slowly from his nostrils.

Beside them, she heard Ron struggling to make a noise through tightly pinched lips, and she threw her mind his way.  The boy gave a small gurgle of pain as she tore him free from his paralysis.  The Potions master's breath hissed from his throat, and his eyes fluttered open.  Agony was liquid in their depths.  

"Aeryn—" 

She looked up and saw Ron crawl over to her side.  His brown eyes were glazed and he was panting slightly.  "Harry—Lockhart—what should we—"

The bathroom door flung open and Fawkes burst like a scarlet bullet into the bathroom, crying shrilly.  With a flurry of feathers, the bird fluttered to the floor next to the Potions master, but Aeryn could see that Snape was beyond the help even of phoenix tears.  His breath was jerky in his throat, and the blood was pouring from his nose in a river.

Aeryn's hands slipped away from Snape's face.  A flood of warring emotions besieged her as she sat back on her knees, her vision focusing on the far wall.  She had to get help—Snape—Madam Pomfrey would know what to do—but Harry, and Lockhart—if Dumbledore—

She put her hand blindly on Fawkes' back, feeling the smooth texture of the feathers beneath her fingertips.  

There was no time for hesitation.

"Get Professor McGonagall."  She turned her slate-blue gaze and looked into Ron's eyes, reading in them the same fear and desperation she felt welling in her heart.  "Tell her what's happened—everything, no matter what she asks, anything that might help her—and get Professor Snape to the infirmary immediately."

Ron nodded silently.  Fawkes whistled and laid his beautiful head on the professor's chest.  Aeryn got to her feet.

"I'm going to get Lockhart and Harry," she said determinedly.  

The glittering, jeweled sword lay forgotten on the bathroom floor.  Aeryn hurried over and scooped it up, the metal cold and heavy in her hand.  She paused long enough for one final glance towards Ron and Professor Snape, and then, clenching the sword tightly in her right hand, Aeryn bolted into the corridor. 


	34. The Evil Within

**Chapter 34: The Evil Within**

Aeryn's skirts slapped wetly about her ankles as she raced down the marble hallways, her eyes hardened into slits, and her hand clenched on the gleaming sword.  Her mind whirled out before her, searching the serpentine passageways for a trace of either Lockhart or Harry.

She burst into the great chamber of the main hall, looking wildly about her.  He was there…_Harry _was there, she could feel his fear wafting through the ether.  And Lockhart—his triumph, and his sheer, mocking joy—he was moving, _somewhere—_heading for the—

_—Underground harbor, _Aeryn thought, sprinting across the corridor towards the oaken gates._  He's got to get off Hogwarts property—can't Disapparate here—must be getting a boat, he can sail off the property, then he can—_

"Naughty, naughty girl!" crowed a jeering voice, and Aeryn skidded to a halt seconds before a clanking suit of armor screeched into her path.

Peeves the Poltergeist popped out from the knight's helmet and leered at her.  "Out of your House, deliberately disobeying—" His voice suddenly faltered, and he looked at her a bit more sharply, as if seeing her for the first time.  "Wait a second—aren't you supposed to be in the—"

"Out of my way, Peeves," Aeryn growled, trying to slip around him. 

The suit of armor followed her movements with a caustic squeal.  "No you don't, missy!"  Peeves snapped, the beginnings of confusion gathering on his ghostly features.  "I don't know what you're doing out here—when everyone's been saying you're—" As Aeryn again attempted to throw herself past him, he scooched the armor in front of her, blocking her way.  "And that sword—" Pure puzzlement had snuck into his snide voice. "What are you doing with—"

An almost-overwhelming burst of fear ripped through the ether, and Aeryn saw red.

"OUT—OF—MY—WAY!" she screamed, flinging out a hand.  The suit of armor took flight, slamming up against the stone wall of the hallway with a loud _crash.  _Peeves winced as the metal slid through him and whirled menacingly towards Aeryn, his eyes flashing.

Before he could do anything, she flung herself down the hallway towards the main doors.  She yanked them open and burst onto the front lawn, only vaguely hearing the angry howl of Peeves behind her.

A brilliant bolt of lighting illuminated the sky, followed by a resounding roar of thunder, and Aeryn flinched as the torrential rain suddenly buffeted her skin.  She clenched the sword in her hands and looked around her wildly, feeling out with her mind for either Lockhart or Harry.  It took her only instants to find their presences—further away, to the left—_on the lake—_

Aeryn spun on her heel and sprinted across the lawn, stumbling only slightly as her feet slipped on the wet grass.  She hurried into the passageway, her breath becoming stilted as she threw her mind out before her.  She had to get there in time—_had to—_if Lockhart was able to get off the school property—she wouldn't be able to follow him—and then Harry—

The rain burst into her face as she stumbled out onto the rocky shore.  _They were there.  _She looked frantically around her and saw a loose tether—she was too late, Lockhart had already gotten a boat, he was already out on the lake—she ran along the shore, peering out onto the lake—straining to see through the sheeting rain—

Lightning crackled, illuminating the lake—barely visible through the downpour, the brightly colored figure of Gilderoy Lockhart paddled a small boat through the rough waters, almost halfway across the lake—she could see Harry's rigid body propped up in the stern of the small vessel—

_"No,"_ she snarled, throwing up a hand.  Her telekinetic power whirled out before her and latched around the vessel.  She gritted her teeth, _pulling _at the boat, throwing back her head as she struggled to keep her grasp, as she felt the sudden burst of surprise and fury explode from Lockhart, but still she held on, until the movements of the boat became sluggish, weak—and then, finally, halted. 

"LOCKHART!" Aeryn screamed, and the roar of thunder echoed her words.  She could feel the struggle of the craft in her grasp as it writhed, trying to work itself free—the frantic working of Lockhart's mind as he looked wildly around him—and Harry—

Without wasting a second, Aeryn levitated herself from the ground, gliding swiftly across the roiling waters until she was level with the boat.  As lightning cleaved the sky, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor looked up from his oars and saw her.  For a moment, he stared openly at her, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, and then a horrible spasm of anger darkened his features.

"_Miss Blake_."  His hissed, furious words could barely be heard over the storm.  The wind and the rain had plastered his blond coif to his head in a mass of knots, giving his face an eerily skullish look.  The oar dropped from his hand with a clatter, and he slowly rose to his feet, rocking only slightly from the waves tossing the craft.  His periwinkle-blue eyes smoldered as he leveled his stolen wand at her.  "You just don't give up, do you?"

Aeryn wrapped her hands around the gleaming broadsword and readied it to swing.  "Let Harry go," she whispered.

Lockhart shook his head curtly.  "I don't think so, my dear."  The edge of his lip twitched.  "He's rather my investment towards the future."

"Your fight's not with him."  Her eyes locked with his.  "It's with me."

A slow, twisted, horrible smile spread across the professor's features.  "Very true."  His eyes blazed, and he made a slight movement with his wand.  Aeryn reared back to strike, but halted as a gray haze shot out from the tip of the wand and sheeted across the swirling waters of the lake.  As the mist touched it, the waves stilled and smoothed until they were flat as plate glass.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor carefully stepped out of the boat onto the lake, the water beneath his feet as firm as if it had been land.  "You and that meddling bastard Snape.  Fortunately, he's been taken care of."  His smile deepened.  "That leaves only you."

He raised his wand again, but instead of pointing it at her, the dark wood turned to Harry, frozen motionless in the boat.  Lockhart giggled at Aeryn's sudden flinch.  "Be careful, my dear," he said merrily.  "You wouldn't want to startle me and accidentally cause something to happen to your darling Mr. Potter."

Heart pounding in her throat, Aeryn carefully lowered herself until her shoes were brushing the water.  "You've been very subtle with this whole affair, Lockhart," she exclaimed, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the howling wind.  "Secretly preparing the Berserker's Mead…carrying on your little relationship with Tom Riddle…" The water felt stable enough, so she gingerly settled her feet upon it.  Smooth as ice, it did not give beneath her weight.  

She straightened and fixed him with a blazing glare that matched Snape's best.  "That's so _very _unlike you," she sneered.  "You're so _flamboyant _in everything else."

Lockhart s gave a deep, mocking bow without taking his eyes from her.  "It's far easier to assassinate with poison than with a battleaxe."

"Clever," she snarled.  "Did you think that up yourself, or is it another one of your plagiarisms?"

"That's my biggest pet peeve about you, Aeryn," he snarled back, straightening and staring blisteringly down at her.  "You've _never _taken me seriously, not even after all that's happened."  His nostrils flared.  "I didn't think that was much to ask for, but apparently that was more than you could afford to give me."

"Was that why you did this?" she snapped, feeling her pulse increase slightly.  The rain was sleeting into her face, making it terribly difficult to see, but she refused to squint, refused to show any sign of weakness.  "Because you wanted to be taken seriously?"

"Why don't you tell me, songbird?"  His features were demonic in the flickers of lightning.  "You seem to be so _good_ at figuring things like this out."

Aeryn regarded the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor warily.  Had it been any other time, she would have leapt for his throat, but the wand pointed towards Harry reined her back.  She paused, thinking quickly.  The longer she kept him talking, the more time she had to formulate a plan of action.  If he suddenly attempted to attack her—which he would, she was certain—she could probably hold him at bay with her mutant powers long enough to retaliate, before he could do anything to Harry. 

Probably.

Very, very carefully, with eyes that never left Lockhart's face, Aeryn knelt and placed the gleaming broadsword on the solid water.  "Put my wand down," she said in a low, calm voice.  "Do that, and I'll tell you."

Lockhart regarded her with steely eyes.  _He's not going to do it, _Aeryn thought, and her stomach plummeted sickeningly to her toes.  But then he shrugged tersely. "Fine idea.  Let us discuss this matter like the civilized people we are."  He slipped the wand into his sleeve, and Aeryn silently breathed a sigh of relief.  But she did not allow it to show as she stood, lifting her chin stubbornly.

"The first day I met you, down in the Potions dungeon."  The words came automatically.  She saw clearly in her mind's eye the events as if they were playing out that moment. "Snape said he knew how you'd become famous, that you'd used Memory Charms…"  She swallowed, remembering Snape's hiss into the other professor's ear as he slammed him against the desk.  "You were afraid he'd blab your secrets and then you'd never sell another book.  So you started poisoning him, hoping he'd destroy himself."

She drew a breath to continue, but was cut short as a snort erupted from Lockhart.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor put his hands to his mouth, his periwinkle-blue eyes wrinkling in amusement as he began to laugh, first quietly, and then louder and louder until he was nearly doubling over with the effort.

"You thought _that _was the reason?" he gasped between giggles.  "Oh, God, Aeryn…" His voice trailed off in pealing laughter, and it was a moment before he could continue speaking.  "It's a good thing you were fucking Severus.  You'd never have gotten that A otherwise."

Aeryn stared at him.  "That wasn't it?"

"Of course not!" Lockhart snapped, wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve.  He sniffed and tossed his head, the effect slightly dampened by the rain plastering his blond curls to his face.  "Granted, if the heroic _Harry Potter_ blabbed my secret, I'd probably be out of a job…after all, if _he _says it's true, then it _has_ to be true…" He sniggered.  "But as for _Severus _spilling my secrets—oh, no, that was never a concern.  Who's going to believe a former Death Eater over a laudable award-winning author?"  A pensive look crossed his features, a look that did nothing to warm the awful ice in his eyes.  "Besides, when you're a famous author like me, there are always quacks running around, saying that I stole their ideas or some such nonsense…the general public actually _expects_ that to happen…."  

Aeryn drew a deep breath, feeling herself teetering on the edge of rage and hysteria.  _Keep him talking.  _"Then pray," she growled.  "Enlighten me."

"You were right about one thing," Lockhart said, a hard edge creeping into his voice. "Severus never took me seriously.  And he _still _doesn't.  The second that people stop taking you seriously…ah, _that_ is the Dementor's Kiss for a writer."  He lifted his chin and glared haughtily at her.  "Once it begins, your days in the spotlight are numbered.  So I knew I had to do something before it spread any further."

Aeryn's teeth were clenched so tightly that the muscles in her jaw hurt.  The rain whirled around her, stinging her skin like a cloud of bees.  She _had _to do something.  But she remained still.  The memory of Snape falling at her feet with blood oozing from his nose echoed horribly in her mind

"The only problem was I didn't know _what _to do," said Lockhart.  A cruel, satisfied glint entered his eyes.  "Fortunately for me, at that moment, the little black diary of Tom Riddle appeared in my life."

Aeryn's hands clenched into fists at her side.  "Because Draco Malfoy gave it to you."  She spat the words from her mouth as if they burned her tongue.  "In Flourish and Blotts, the week before school started."

Lockhart stared at her for a moment, for the first time looking puzzled.  Then, sudden realization lit his face and he chuckled.  "Ah, yes.  Young Mr. Malfoy."  He flashed her a toothy grin.  "I forgot that I told you about that.  What precisely did I tell you had happened?"  

Aeryn swallowed.  "You said that he presented you the diary with a big long speech, and welcomed you to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for Hogwarts."  She gazed levelly at him, trying to keep her voice even.  "And that the diary had been handed down through his family, to be used only for someone whose memories were worth retelling."

Lockhart cocked his head thoughtfully to the side.  "Did I really say that?" he asked musingly.  "Not bad…there's a few good turns of phrase in there."  A flash of lightning ripped through the sky overhead as he shook a mocking finger at Aeryn.  "But that really wasn't the way events fell into place at all.  You should always remember first and foremost, my dear, that I am a writer."  His teeth glinted wolfishly in the lightning.  "We tend to embellish the truth."

Aeryn started.  "What do you mean—"

Lockhart cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand. _"A_ Malfoy did presentme with that diary, but not in Flourish and Blotts, and definitely not in the manner you just described."  He sniffed and ran his fingers through his soaked hair, pulling the strands away from his face so he could glare clearly at her.  "I was in Knockturn Alley that afternoon before the book signing—I was so _extremely _perturbed at Severus that I thought perhaps I could find something to make him pay for my discomfort—when I happened to see young Draco and his father emerging from a store called Borgin and Burkes.  They were arguing, so I immediately listened in to their conversation."

Aeryn's lip curled.  It didn't surprise her in the slightest that Draco Malfoy and his father had been skulking around the seedy section of the wizard's London—nor did it surprise her that Lockhart would have gone there.  "Knockturn Alley?"  Her eyes flitted quickly to the frozen Harry in the boat, and then immediately back to the professor.  _Keep him talking.  _"That was _awfully _sneaky of you to be there.  If someone had seen you—"

"—I would have told them I was doing research," Lockhart interrupted smoothly.  "It's quite lovely being a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—you can practically get away with murder if you tell them it's all in the sake of research."  

If he noticed the flash of rage that swiftly darkened Aeryn's features, he pointedly ignored it and continued with his tale.  

"Young Draco was muttering something about _Harry Potter_, how wonderful everyone thought he was.  'Famous for having a stupid _scar _on his forehead,'he said.   Malfoy Senior merely glared at his son and said—this I remember distinctly—'I would remind you that it is not prudent to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear.'

"There was something in the way he said 'Dark Lord' that made me stop and look at him a second time.  There was something in his eyes…a sort of knowing hesitation, as if he didn't wish to speak too much, in case someone was listening."  

Aeryn forced herself to remain still as she carefully regarded the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  Although he was gesticulating in the air with his hands, she knew that he would be able to draw his wand with lightning speed the instant she made a move towards either him or Harry.  Very, very cautiously, trying not to alert him, she gingerly felt out before her with her mind towards Lockhart, keeping her face impassive as he continued speaking.

"My interest was piqued immediately, and just at that instant Malfoy Senior looked up and saw me standing across the street, watching them.  I knew I had startled him, for he told his son rather sharply to go into a nearby store and wait for him there.  Seizing the opportunity, I crossed the street to speak with him—unfortunately, just like that putrid son of his, he has no charm _whatsoever."_

She could feel the waves of triumph and condescension roiling from him, and she forced herself to quest further towards him—further into his mind—

"'I don't know who you are,' Malfoy Senior said to me, snarling, 'but if you're wise, you'll forget what you just saw.'"

—and she nearly flinched as she met a blank, solid wall.

"Of course, I had no intention of doing so, especially when I might have stumbled upon someone with the same opinion of the famous Mr. Potter as me.  So I took a chance.  I flashed my best grin at the other man and said in my most pleasant voice: 'Come now, kind sir, is that the way you always treat your fellow brothers of the Dark, or am I just an exception?'"

Aeryn struggled to keep her face impassive as she spread her mind around his, frantically searching for a handhold.  She couldn't comprehend it—his mind was somehow blocked from her, she couldn't reach him—_how on earth could that be—_she knew, she was _certain _he wasn't a mutant—

"It was a wild stab in the dark, I knew that, but I was willing to risk the gamble.  And fortunately for me, I had guessed correctly."  Lockhart seemed oblivious to Aeryn's sudden struggle, and he continued speaking calmly.  "Malfoy Senior regarded me warily, and then leaned forward and grabbed my right arm, pushing up the sleeve of my robe.

"'You won't find it, dear sir,' I told him merrily as he looked at my arm, 'it hasn't appeared for ages, not since—' and I let my voice trail away meaningfully."  

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's voice was so filled with smug triumph that Aeryn's attention immediately jerked back to him.  "What?" she choked, hoping that her desperation was not as obvious as it felt.

"Don't be stupid, Aeryn," Lockhart snapped.  "He was searching for the Dark Mark, of course—the Mark that Voldemort gave all his followers when they became Death Eaters, the Mark that initiated them into his secret society.  Granted, _I _didn't have it, but I knew about it—_everyone _knows about it—and my bluff worked.

"'I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with your son a few minutes ago,' I said before he could come up with anything to say.  'Fine young lad—he resembles you greatly, and I'm certain you're instilling in him all the virtues that befit his lineage—which is, I'm certain, _pure?'"  _He grinned pointedly at Aeryn.  "The _pure _was more for artistic touch, but Malfoy Senior's nostrils flared and I knew I had touched a nerve."

Aeryn pressed her hands flat against her sides so he wouldn't see her trembling.  If she couldn't attack him with her telepathy—how could she—

"'Of course,' he said tightly," Lockhart continued.  "'The Malfoy lineage can be traced back over centuries.'

"'I would have expected no less from a servant of our Dark Lord,' I lied glibly.  'It's such a shame that the wizarding world nowadays seems to be steering more in a direction of _quantity _versus _quality.  _Pure blood is counting for less and less everywhere.' 

"'Not with me,' Malfoy Senior snapped.

"'Nor with me,' I replied quickly, suppressing a smile.  'You can be certain, sir, that in my classes at Hogwarts, the students' family trees will be—how shall we say—_fundamental_ to their success?' 

"Well, Malfoy Senior certainly wasn't expecting that.  'You're a professor?' he asked, and I could hear the skepticism in his voice.  I merely flashed my signature grin and winked confidingly at him.

"'As professor, of course, I'll have to keep my bias on an unverifiable _rumor _level—but you'll see that I can work wonders in the art of subtlety.'  I could see he still wasn't quite convinced, so I added, 'The Mudbloods won't be able to do anything about it.'"

_Telekinesis.  That's got to work.  _Aeryn again sent her mind questing towards him, trying to inconspicuously nudge the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"His face immediately darkened at the words.  'Ah, yes, the Mudbloods.'"  An evil look spread across Lockhart's features, making him look terrifyingly like Tom Riddle.  "'It's a shame there is no one left alive to carry on the work of the great Slytherin,' he said slowly, and he looked sharply at me, as if he was…trying to test me."

Aeryn almost screamed.  She couldn't push him.  She couldn't even _nudge _him.  It was almost as if there was a huge _bubble _surrounding him, blocking her from reaching through with her mutant powers.

"I had no idea what he meant by _the work of the great Slytherin_, but I figured it would be in my best interest to play along.  'Ah, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four,' I cried, nodding knowingly.  _'There _was one who knew the worth of pure wizard blood.  It is a true pity that all who could continue his work are…_unable to do so.'  _Then, after a pause—more for drama than anything else—I added:  'At least for the moment.'

"Malfoy Senior stared shrewdly at me.  'Do you truly mean that, sir?' he asked finally.

"'Would you believe a fellow Death Eater to feel any differently?' I whispered confidingly.

"His body stance changed completely.  Languidly, he straightened, and regarded me with a calm gaze.  'So you are to be the new teacher at Hogwarts,' he said in a louder voice.  'I wish you the best of luck, sir.  Allow me to shake your hand.'

"I was a little confused at this sudden change in the conversation, but it never does any good to be rude to a direct request, so I held out my hand.  Malfoy Senior took it, and then suddenly pulled me close to him and slipped something into my free hand.  'For the glory of our Lord,' he whispered fiercely into my ear, and then he was suddenly gone, disappearing up the stairs of a nearby shop to retrieve his son."

"I looked down at my hand and saw a little black diary, tattered and well-worn.  As you can well imagine, I was more than a little puzzled at the whole exchange, but it was nearly time for my book signing at Flourish and Blotts—so I put the diary away in my pocket and completely forgot about it until that evening.  And then, of course…well…" He looked at her pointedly, his signature toothy smile chilling his face.  "You and I both know what that diary truly was."

Aeryn stared openly at him, stunned beyond words.  Malfoy's father had been behind it—_how the hell can this be happening, why can't I reach him with my powers—_how simple, how clear—_God above, what am I going to do, without my powers I won't be able to—_why on earth hadn't she thought of it before—

"Funny that I told you Draco had presented it to me," Lockhart said musingly.  "I don't believe he ever knew I had the diary."

Aeryn suddenly remembered Christmas evening, when she and Harry and Ron had gone to the Slytherin chambers robed in illusion, to speak with Draco…_I wish I knew who the Heir of Slytherin was, _he had said.  No—of course—he _hadn't _known—

"I quickly discovered that there was more to the diary than the tattered cover promised, and oh, how fortunate it was for me," Lockhart said, chuckling.  "I told Riddle about my problem, and he was quick to offer a solution.  I already knew the aversion that darling Severus held towards your _precious _Mr. Potter, and also the events of the past year at Hogwarts.  What would be better, I thought, than the brooding Potions master attempting to take the life of the celebrated Harry Potter?  Of course, he wouldn't have succeeded—for, at the last moment, Gilderoy Lockhart would have rushed in and saved the day, and _everyone _would have celebrated my bravery.  Even Harry Potter."  

His lip curled, and a cold, hard glint echoed in his eyes.  "So, Riddle explained to me how to prepare the Berserker's Mead, and I introduced Severus to the poison."

Aeryn did not move—_could _not move.  Her mind was whirling frantically.  _Harry—_her eyes darted to the boy lying motionless in the stern of the boat, his eyes wide and helpless as the sheeting rain streamed from his face.  Her hands were knotted tightly in her skirts, and she swallowed with a mouth that had suddenly gone dry.  _Lockhart—_without her powers, she was nothing against him, nothing—

"Unfortunately," Lockhart growled, "it didn't work out _quite _as I'd planned."  Aeryn's gaze jerked back to him in time to see a hideous expression twist the professor's face.  "Thanks to a voluptuous young chit named Aeryn Blake_, _the poison had a slightly _different_ effect."  

Aeryn did not dare to move as she watched the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor attempt to smooth his features into a normal expression.  "Although I was dismayed at first, I took it well.  I'm a flexible man.  I thought, perhaps, if I was kind to her, sympathetic, willing to help her out, she would come running to me for help."  He spread his hands and shrugged.  "My heroic deeds would be of a slightly different vein, but they would be no less spectacular."

The glint in his eyes turned murderous, and his face was suddenly demonic in the driving rain.

"But what I didn't realize is that you—just like Severus—have an _infuriating_ habit of never acting in a predictable way," he snarled.  "You refused my help, suffered through it on your own—_and—_" 

His voice broke suddenly, and when he was able to speak again, Aeryn nearly shrank away at the acid lacing his voice.  _"You helped him." _  He pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at her.  "I wouldn't have pegged you to develop Stockholm syndrome," he hissed, "but you're just _full_ of surprises, aren't you?"

The breath was shallow in Aeryn's throat as she stared at him, stunned beyond words.  All but the barest remnants of Lockhart's handsomeness had been washed away, and Aeryn was able to see for the first time just how tenuous was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's grasp on sanity.  Her head was whirling.  To be taken seriously—he had done it _all to be taken seriously—_

"So now, it comes to this," Lockhart said softly.  "All my plans have been totally blown away, and I'm rather playing it by ear."  An awful smile twisted his lips.  "Impromptu was never my forte."  

"Why?"  The word tore from her throat, rough and choked with desperation.  In her mind's eye, she saw him that cold Christmas evening, taunting the writhing Potions master—his face framed with yellow fire as he bent above her in the deserted hallway—she forced herself to level her gaze at him, feeling her body quiver with pent-up misery.  "What did Snape or I ever do to you—why did you do this to us?"

Lightning ripped through the sky.

"Haven't you been listening at _all_, Aeryn?" Lockhart roared over the resounding thunder, throwing his arms out wide as if to embrace the driving rain.  "You were never a part of the equation!  If Severus didn't have such a wandering eye, you never would have become involved!"  The lightning and thunder crackled again, barely masking the cruel laugh that rasped suddenly from his throat.  "And as for your cherished Potions master, well…he was just the means to an end."

Aeryn was unable to speak.  _The means to an end.  _The blood thundered in her ears, and she could feel a stinging surge of blood into her cheeks, as if she had just been slapped.  Her lips moved as if to form words, but she made no noise.  Lockhart regarded her calmly and then raised his eyebrows haughtily.

"I really don't expect you to understand," he said loftily, folding his arms across his chest.  "You've never been famous.  You probably never _will _be famous.  I, on the other hand, have sipped of the exquisite nectar of stardom."  He raised his eyes to the stormy heavens and heaved a long-suffering sigh.  "Once you have tasted that, you are doomed forever to thirst for its taste.  It is a long and lonely road, and it is not for those who are unwilling to make sacrifices—which sometimes include other people."

Aeryn finally found her voice.  "Sacrifices?" she gasped, her fingers tightening in the fabric of her robe.  "You've sacrificed nothing—absolutely _nothing—" _She choked the words from her throat and felt them replaced by a blistering rage.  "All you've ever done is lie, cheat, and steal—"  

"Oh, I could have done it the conventional way if I had wanted, Aeryn," Lockhart interrupted.  A chill smile twitched his lips and he gazed piercingly down his nose at her.  "It's just that I found it much easier to let everyone else do the hard work for me."

"You're loathsome," she hissed.

His grin deepened.  "Thank you."  Her wand suddenly appeared in his hand and was leveled menacingly towards her.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rather pressing appointment with Mr. Potter.  You can either leave, or I can kill you."  His eyes glittered.  "The choice is yours to make."

Aeryn's eyes narrowed.  The lightning crackled and the roiling thunder rocked the sky.  "Let Harry go," she murmured.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.  Then the edge of Lockhart's lip twitched away from his teeth in a bestial snarl.  "You're just so damned stubborn.  In _everything."  _A barking, harsh laugh rasped from his chest.  "I suppose that was part of Sev's fascination with you, being able to bend you into submission…."

Aeryn lifted her chin, fiercely determined not to let him see her quake.

"And yet after all he did to you, you helped him," Lockhart whispered.  Another branch of lightning illuminated the night sky, and Aeryn was able to clearly see the anger locking his muscles, the puzzlement warping his features.  He bared his teeth.  "Are you _always _a martyr?  Or is it that you secretly _enjoyed _being fucked by him?"  He chuckled, but the sound did nothing to warm the deadness in his eyes.  "Is that it, pretty wren?  Bit of the Electra complex controlling you, perhaps?  Your own father's dead, so you symbolically transfer your affection to others…."  

She could feel the blood drain from her cheeks as her hands spasmed into fists at her side.  He must have seen the slight movement, for a cruel, knowing leer darkened his face.  "Bet your daddy was lean and black-haired just like Sev," he murmured.  "Did he molest you, Aeryn?"  

Her breath choked in her throat, leaving her gasping furious, shallow breaths.  

"Sneak into your bedroom late at night, when your mommy was sleeping, when no one would hear you cry for him to _stop, stop?"_

A red miasma of rage blinded her, and she gave a strangled shriek.  Lockhart giggled, and it was all she could do to keep from launching herself at his throat.  As she dug her teeth into her lip, trying to garner control of herself, she suddenly heard a smooth voice in her ear:

_Do not allow the words of others to control you, Miss Blake._

With a tremendous effort, Aeryn swallowed the fury suffocating her.  She fixed her gaze on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and willed her head to clear.  She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, idly wishing in the back of her mind that her robe would not cling to her so, it hindered her movement—

—robe—

—_body—_

_—You know, Miss Blake, as grand as it is being Magical Me, there are moments when I ache to be that foul black-haired Potions master_—

And, suddenly—just as she'd always suspected—she knew.

"You're jealous, Lockhart," she said quietly.

Had she not been looking for it, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's flinch would have been otherwise unnoticeable in the flickering lightning-light.  He tossed his head, as if to mask the barely-noticeable movement.  "Jealous?" he snorted, but his words rang false in Aeryn's ears.  "Unlike Sev, _I_ don't need blackmail to get sex.  With just the snap of my fingers, I can have _any _witch I want, without hesitation!"

"Except me," Aeryn replied quietly.  

Lockhart's muscles tightened as if she had struck him across the face.  After a moment, he tried to right his signature grin on his face, but only succeeded in a warped grimace.  Aeryn watched him warily as he shoved a hand roughly through his matted curls.  "Why should I settle for second-hand goods?" he muttered finally in a voice as brittle as over-tempered steel.

"That's what it was," she whispered.  "Even though you didn't want me at first, it infuriated you, didn't it, that for all of your power over us, over the situation…for all your fame, your looks, _everything_…I didn't choose you."  

Lockhart's shoulders clenched.  The blood surged back into her cheeks, and her lip curled slightly.  _Was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor not good enough, _he had snarled that evening, and now—with startling clarity—she knew why.  

Her eyes hardened into jeweled slits and she spat the words towards him like tiny, precise darts.  "I chose the odious, greasy-haired, sallow-faced Death Eater over 'Magical Me.'  That's why you wanted me."  

A bitter, knowing smile warmed her lips.  "And that's why you hate me so."

There was a long, horrible silence.  The rain pounded into her face and Aeryn held her breath, not daring to move.

Lightning split the sky, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's face became clearly visible.  All beauty had fled from his features.  His periwinkle-blue eyes were wide with rage, and his face was bone-white.  Aeryn clenched her teeth together as he fought for control, a myriad of horrible emotions crossing his face.  

When he finally spoke, his hissed words sent shivers slithering down Aeryn's spine.  "You haven't answered my question, little sparrow."  He pointed his wand at her and tilted his head to the side.  "Why did you help that snake?"

_Because I had no choice.  Because he, at least, was honest.  Because I had already seen the worst he had to offer—I knew he could only improve from there.  Because __he cared about me, that to him I wasn't merely an object or a conquest—as I was to you.  A hundred different reasons leapt into her mind, all equally true and untrue.  But she voiced none of them, and instead glared balefully at the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor._

"Better to side with a snake than a rat," she snarled.

The thunder roared.

A bestial expression gashed Lockhart's face.  "How very poetic," he whispered.  His eyes blazed as if lit from within by the fires of Hell.  "Well, then.  Let us see what this rat is capable of."  

With slow, deliberate movements he lifted his arms and spread them wide; a brightly colored crucifix in the sheeting rain.  "I'm feeling generous today, meadowlark.  Go ahead.  I give you the first strike."  A satanic smile twisted his lips.  "Smite me for all you're worth."

A desperate rage filled her, and Aeryn threw up her hands and _hurled _with all her force towards him, her smoldering fury blistering the ether.  _But she could do nothing.  _ She reared back, her heart plummeting, and again let fly her powers.  But nothing happened, not even the slightest waver of Lockhart's multicolored robe.  As the cold grip of hopelessness spread through her body, she heard the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor chuckle slightly.  

"What's the matter, Aeryn?" he asked jeeringly.  "Can't do anything?"

She clumsily took a step backward.

"Tom Riddle may have been a master manipulator, but he was also very generous to those who helped him willingly."  Lockhart dropped his arms and smiled evilly at her.  "I'm sure you already discovered that he was a mutant."

The smallest of whimpers escaped her lips.

"Being a mutant, he understood _all _about your petty powers, Aeryn."  The wand lifted again and pointed at her with a deadly accuracy.  "Several months ago, he was generous enough to teach me a little spell—very simple, really, but not well-known at all…." He raised an eyebrow, and a glimmer of handsomeness began to creep back into his face.  "It grants the caster immunity from the two most common mutant abilities."  He winked knowingly at her.  "Telekinesis and telepathy."  

Aeryn choked.

"How fortunate, don't you think?" Lockhart asked, a humored edge tinting his voice.  He waved the wand menacingly at her.  "I believe he created it himself." 

Her chest jerkily rose and fell with her half-formed, shallow gasps.  She couldn't attack him—could do nothing—her eyes flitted from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to Harry, then back to Lockhart.  Frantically, as an afterthought, she sent her mind whirling towards the wand he held, _pulling _at it to see if she could loose it from his hand—but it was also frozen from her telepathy, as motionless as if it had been encased in ice—

"Nothing more to say, pretty bird?"

Her gaze scanned around them, searching through the sheeting rain—for anything that she could use—anything at all—

—and her eyes fell upon an oar, lying at the bow of the boat.

"Time's up, Aeryn darling." 

She quickly looked back at Lockhart.  A triumphant smile warped his face, slick with the pouring rain.  She struggled to smooth her expression as he giggled, weaving the tip of his wand through the air like a conductor's baton.  _"__Alouette, gentille alouette_," he sang in a wavering, high-pitched voice.  _"__Alouette, je te plumerai_…._"_

Drawing a deep breath, Aeryn lowered her chin and glared valiantly at him, at the same instant sending her mind whirling out towards the boat.

"Go to hell," she growled.

Her hands snapped open into blades at her sides.

Lockhart shook his head.  "You really should have been nicer to me, Aeryn," he said tightly.  

In the bow of the boat, the oar sprang up as if grasped by an invisible hand.  

"Had you been, I'd kill you painlessly.  As it is…"

Aeryn's slate-blue eyes did not waver from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's face.

With a furious snarl, Lockhart raised the wand high over his head.  But before he could speak a word, the oar hurtled through the sheeting rain towards him and smashed clumsily into his skull.  Lockhart grunted and staggered backwards, putting a hand to his temple.  

A feral scream tore from Aeryn's throat, and she launched herself towards him, her hands moving with lightning speed.  Lockhart looked up quickly at the sound, jerking the wand level towards her, but he was not quick enough.

_"Haii!" _she shrieked, slicing her hand through the air and knocking his arm harmlessly to the side.  A furious expression crossed his face and he punched towards her with his free hand, but she easily deflected it with her other arm and drove a knee into his groin with all her might.  Lockhart groaned and doubled over, his face twisting in pain.  

Before he had a chance to recover, Aeryn's leg whirled through the air, solidly connecting with his face in a roundhouse kick and knocking him backwards across the water.  She leapt after him and frantically grabbed his wrist, trying to force open his clenched hand.  But his free arm suddenly shot up and wrapped swiftly around her neck, locking her head in the crook of his arm.  Aeryn gagged as Lockhart roughly twisted her downward, trying to break her grasp.  

Her eyes watering in pain, Aeryn gritted her teeth and wrapped her free arm around Lockhart's waist.  She threw her weight down, and the sudden motion was enough to pull both her and her opponent to the water.  The breath wheezed from Aeryn's lungs as they fell atop each other and, gasping, she clumsily tore herself from his grasp and sprang to her feet.  

_Get the wand—the wand—_

A wet rustle warned her as Lockhart got to his feet, and she spun around, her fists flashing out before her.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor snarled as he raised his wand, rearing back to strike, but Aeryn struck his arm, knocking the wand away from her.  Several times he tried to cast a spell, but she deftly batted the wand away each time he raised it.  Her hands jabbed out, dancing towards him in an intricate pattern as she struggled to land a well-placed punch, trying to knock the wand from his hand, or incapacitate him, somehow—

As she whacked his wand away yet again, she dove forward and slammed her other fist into his jaw with a powerful uppercut.  He groaned and reeled backwards, but not before she clamped her fingers around his wrist and twisted as hard as she could.  His fingers spasmed open in agony and the wand clattered to the solid water. 

Lockhart shrieked and tore himself from her grasp.  As he threw himself desperately towards the wand, Aeryn leapt in front of him, knifing her hand towards his neck.  But his own hand shot up to block her blow, and at the same instant he let fly a punch towards her face.  

Aeryn deflected it at the last instant, but it was suddenly as if she was faced with a snarling tiger.  Now that his hands were free, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor turned his full physical force towards her.  Adept Aeryn was at karate, but Lockhart was significantly larger and stronger than her, and the blows he was able to land on her body were strong enough to make her whimper in pain.  

"Acc—" 

Aeryn smashed her hand across his face, cutting off his voice before he could spit the rest of the spell and call the wand to him.  With renewed desperation, she drove him back, striking out towards him with all her might.  Slowly, agonizingly, she pushed him backwards until he was teetering on the edge of the hard water, trying to hold his ground.  If she could get him to step back—he would stumble, lose his balance—then perhaps she could—

With lightning speed, Lockhart knocked her hands away from him and with an inhuman roar he leapt forward, striking his forehead against hers in a powerful headbutt.  Pain exploded behind her eyes, and Aeryn crumpled with a cry.  Her shoulders struck the water—panting, she struggled to rise—but Lockhart swooped upon her, pinning her arms down with his knees, and suddenly his fingers were clamped around her throat, and her neck was being crushed in a vice-like grip.

She gurgled in pain and writhed beneath him, clawing towards his face with her fingers.  But she could not reach, and though she tried to buck him off, he clung stubbornly to her, his face twisted in a rabid anger.

The fingers around her throat tightened even further, and her heart leapt in her chest_—_she labored vainly to draw breath, blinding black spots began to eat away at her vision—

"Die," Lockhart snarled, his voice burning with the blistering fury of a forest fire.  His face was bestial in the flickering lightning.  "Die, you bitch, why won't you just fucking _die?"  _

With the frenzy of a drowning cat, she thrashed beneath him, but he was too heavy, and the pain—her throat—she could feel consciousness slipping from her—

"You _will _die," he growled.  "And then I'll kill Harry—and then finally, _finally _you'll all be out of my hair—gone forever—and then I'll finally have the fame I deserve—finally—"

Her vision blurred…there was a dull roaring in her ears, as if she was standing close to the seashore…she gathered all her mental strength and sent her mind _whirling_ towards him, scrabbling for a handhold…but all she met was the solid wall of blankness…a strangled moan slipped from between her lips…she could do _nothing, _he was protected from her telekinesis and telepathy….

_—Telekinesis and telepathy—_

Wild, sudden, desperate hope flooded through her.  Her fingers snapped around Lockhart's wrists tightly, and, enfolding the last shreds of strength around her, Aeryn rolled her eyes back in their sockets and directed all her concentration upon the hands wrapped around her throat—

—and _pulled—_

It was as if every drop of blood in her body had suddenly caught fire.  A horrendous scream split the air, and Aeryn barely noticed that it was coming from her lips.  His being _flooded _into her, zipping through her veins with unbelievable speed, and with it crackled his emotions, his thoughts, his memories—

_He raised his wand high and screamed _"Obliviate!" _and the Armenian warlock crumpled to the ground, his face a mask of stunned surprise—his quill pen moved over the diary, his words sinking into the white pages with frightening speed—he drew a small bottle from his sleeve and tipped a few drops of the clear liquid inside into one of the goblets of butterbeer, and then fixed a merry smile on his face before kicking open the door to the Potions dungeon, where two figures looked up in surprise—_

—she could not breathe—

She vainly tried to pull his hands away from her neck, but the locked fingers were immoveable.  The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's face had blanched white in the driving rain, and Aeryn groggily registered the stupefied shock and terror lancing through her veins coming from him, as every fiber of his being was tapped and drawn into her body—

—and at the same instant an unknown door in the corner of her mind was suddenly flung open, and Aeryn's eyes widened as a tingling rush surged through her and a hundred words—a _thousand _words—burned into her consciousness, and with them a strange lightness, the first stirrings of—_magic—_

—she could not _breathe_—

Even as his life-force flowed into her, he would not loose her.  Aeryn could feel her own strength melting away, and her vision darkened.  Drawling the last remnants of her power about her, Aeryn yanked her arm out from beneath his knee.  Hesitating for only a second, she gritted her teeth and jabbed her finger into one of the periwinkle-blue eyes above her with all her might.

There was a sickening slurping as warm moisture suddenly rushed over her hand, and an inhuman sound erupted from Lockhart's throat as his blinding, white-hot agony seared through her.  The hands disappeared from around her throat as he stumbled away from her, clawing at his face.  

Aeryn raspily drew a huge breath into her lungs and struggled to her feet, reeling slightly.  She put a hand to her throat, wincing as stabs of pain rushed through her body.  Lockhart had fallen to his knees, and the air was rent with his high-pitched, tortured sobs.  Aeryn cast her gaze around her, frantically looking for something—the wand—anything—and her eyes fell upon the glittering sword, lying forgotten upon the hard water.

Quickly, Aeryn threw out a hand and _pulled _the sword to her with one hard yank.  The jeweled handle flew into her hand.  But as she straightened, clutching the sword in her two hands, Lockhart's lifted his head and saw her.  

_"Accio," _he snarled brokenly, and her wand soared through the sheeting rain and snapped into his palm.  His hand dropped from his face and Aeryn had a terrifying glimpse of dark blood gushing from between his closed eyelids, staining one side of his face and giving him a ghastly double-faced appearance.  

He jerked the wand up to point at her, and Aeryn leapt forward desperately, swinging the jeweled sword with all her might.  

Blade met flesh as the sharp edge sliced through the air and caught Lockhart's wand arm, slicing deeply into the muscle.  Lockhart screamed and the wand clattered from his hand.  He folded over, grasping his bloodied arm—his head swiveled towards her, and his one remaining eye was filled with blistering fury—his ruined hand stretched out, and his lips moved—

The gleaming sword flashed through the air and connected with horrific force.

A geyser of blood erupted through the pouring rain as Lockhart's head was severed from his neck.  His blond locks stained red as his head bounced to the water and rolled away, his mouth open in a wide 'O.'  With a wet rustle, Lockhart's decapitated body crumpled to the solid water.  

For a second Aeryn stood there, her heart thudding in her chest as she stared at the lifeless body.  It twitched spasmodically as a pool of blackish blood oozed slowly from the ragged stump that had been Lockhart's neck.  The torrential rush of the rain was all that could be heard.

The sword dropped from her hands.  Aeryn slumped suddenly to her knees and began vomiting uncontrollably.  Her stomach was emptied far too quickly, but still she heaved, as if she could somehow purge the rest of her system through the action.  She felt Lockhart's memories whirling through her blood, and the soft give of his flesh as the sword had sliced through him, and she continued to retch until tears were flooding down her cheeks and she could scarcely breathe.  

Finally the heaves subsided.  With a low groan, Aeryn pressed her forehead against the hard water.  It was cool, cold as the driving rain, and as she felt it leach the heat from her suddenly-flushed skin, her throat constricted and a blistering pain welled behind her eyes, and she began sobbing, quietly at first, and then with increasing intensity until her body was quaking hysterically, her moans punctuated by the dissipating rumble of thunder.  

It was a long while before she found the strength to shakily push herself into a standing position.  She forced herself to look at the bloody mess that used to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  Her wand, now slick with blood and rain, lay next to his curled fingers.  Aeryn swallowed, trying to loose the tense knot in the base of her throat.  She slowly stretched out her hand.

_"Accio,"_ she whispered brokenly, and as easily as if it had been telekinesis, the wand rose from the ground and soared through the air to snap into her palm.

With halting footsteps, Aeryn turned and stumbled towards the little boat, bobbing forgotten in the waters.  The sheeting rain had slackened, and she could see Harry, still lying motionless in the stern.  She jerkily lifted the wand to point at the boy, feeling a sudden surge of foreign power flow through her as the words rose to her lips.

_"Fin—fini—" _A sob shattered her words, and Aeryn strained a breath through her teeth, fighting for control.  _"Finite—Incantatem," _she whispered finally.

The boy jumped slightly as if he had been pricked by a pin.  He made an indistinct noise in his throat, and she saw his hands move clumsily, reaching up to grasp the sides of the boat and pull himself up to a sitting position.  Aeryn watched him motionlessly as he wiped a shaky hand across his wet face.  Then, slowly, he turned his head and his bottle-green gaze found her.

A keening whine gurgled from Aeryn's lips, and the control that she had tried to keep cemented in place was washed away as a fresh wave of tears overtook her.  She moaned heartwrenchingly and buried her face in her hands.

Then, as her body rocked with the force of her sobs, a pair of arms slipped around her waist and Harry held her to him.  With an even louder wail, Aeryn flung her arms around the boy and buried her face in his shoulder, squeezing him as tightly as she could.  He patted her awkwardly on the back as she wept, and murmured comfortingly to her as she clung to him, crying away the bottled-up emotion that had flowed through her veins for the past eight months.

Overhead, the last fading echoes of thunder rattled away into the distance.  

Finally, Aeryn hiccupped and pulled away from the boy.   Her eyes were swollen halfway shut, and her body still shook with the remnants of sobs.  She drew a deep, shuddering breath, and rubbed the back of her hand perfunctorily across her face, attempting to wipe away the accumulated moisture. 

"Aeryn."

Aeryn looked at Harry.  She could barely see his luminous green eyes behind his rain-splattered glasses.  The face beneath his unruly black hair was pale, accentuating the thin lightning scar on his forehead.  A small, sad smile curved Harry's lips as he stretched out a hand to her.

"Let's go back, Aeryn," he whispered.  

The memory of Professor Snape crumpling to the floor after shielding her from Lockhart's spell, his face blanched and blood flooding from his nostrils, rose into her mind's eye.  

Aeryn slowly reached out to grasp Harry's hand and gave a tiny nod of agreement.  

They stepped into the little boat and Aeryn tapped the bow with her wand.  The boat leapt forward as if spurred by a strong breeze, and without a backwards glance at the crumpled remains of Gilderoy Lockhart, they wordlessly steered the craft back towards Hogwarts.


	35. See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Heal Me

Chapter 35: See Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Heal Me__

The thunderstorm had lightened considerably by the time Aeryn and Harry emerged from the entrance to the underground harbor.  As they squished across the soggy lawn, there was a sudden whirring sound and three figures on broomsticks zipped through the rain overhead.  But neither Harry nor Aeryn paid them more than a disinterested glance as they made their way up the steps and pushed open the heavy oaken entrance doors.

_"You!"_

Peeves the Poltergeist's angry shriek echoed in the empty hallway as Aeryn and Harry stumbled through the door, their wet robes slapping about their feet.  The ghost floated menacingly towards them, blocking their path.  "You—Blake—how dare—you're a—" 

With an emotionless face, Aeryn grabbed Harry by the arm and walked forward through the poltergeist, shuddering only slightly as his shadow-cold essence washed over her.

"Leave us alone, Peeves," she muttered.

"HEY, WAIT, YOU!" howled the poltergeist furiously.  He drifted along after them, his confusion and anger apparent in his voice.  "COME BACK HERE!"  But Aeryn pointedly ignored his cries, and did not turn back as she and Harry started up the marble staircase.

"Um—" Harry mumbled suddenly.  "Aeryn—" 

Aeryn stepped onto the landing of the first floor and looked over her shoulder at Harry.  The boy's face was unusually pinched, and his bottle-green eyes were startlingly bright in his thin face.  He hesitantly motioned towards the arm she was grasping.  "Can you—kinda let go a bit—" 

Aeryn's eyes followed his finger and noticed, to her complete surprise, that her knuckles had turned white and the muscles from her wrist to her elbow were aching from holding Harry so tightly.  She quickly peeled her fingers from his wrist, a slight pang of guilt wracking her as Harry's face immediately relaxed.

"Thanks," he murmured, chafing his fingers across his reddened skin.  

_—Too bad it wasn't your throat, you rotten little bastard—_

The thought lightninged through her brain out of nowhere, laced with such poisonous hate that Aeryn choked, turning her face away from her friend and rushing forward blindly along the hallway.

She had touched the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for only a few seconds—mere instants—but that touch had absorbed not only his magic and his memories, but also part of his _being, _as if he and she were now one in the same skin, watching the events through the same eyes, but with two very different viewpoints, as if he was sort of a warped spiritual double—

"No," Aeryn hissed furiously.  She forced her mind away from the stolen memories, from the lingering presence of Lockhart.  "I already killed you."  

She felt more than saw Harry's barely concealed flinch.  "Aeryn?  What's wrong?" the boy asked after a wary moment.  But Aeryn blindly shook her head and pulled away from her friend, unable to look at him.

Her eyes wandered to the torches lining the smooth stone walls.  The flickering shadows were frighteningly deep, and she shuddered, remembering the intoxicating _rush _as Lockhart's being flowed into her, darkly repulsive and yet so desirable at the same time.  She clenched her hands into fists as she hurried down the winding twists of the passageways.  

"I won't let you best me this second time," she vowed in a whisper. 

She and Harry turned the corner to the infirmary wing.  Far down the hall, a clump of small figures was huddled outside the door, milling nervously about and talking to each other in hushed voices.  Aeryn's pulse thudded suddenly in the base of her throat, and she gathered her wet skirt in her hand and started to jog forward, fear rising like a flood within her.

"HARRY!  AERYN!" 

Ron detached himself from the clump and sprinted towards the hallway towards them, his face pale beneath his freckles.  Aeryn skidded to a halt as the red-haired boy stopped in front of her, his brown eyes darting between her and Harry.  "Harry—you're okay—" He looked as if he was about to say more, but was silenced as another figure, brown-haired and clad in a dressing gown, pushed forcibly past him and threw herself onto Harry, wrapping her arms tightly around him and babbling with relief.  

"Harry—I just woke up—Ron told me everything—I was so worried—"

"Hermione," Aeryn murmured through frozen lips.  Her eyes wandered back down the hallway at the knot of people hovering outside the infirmary door.  Colin, Penelope, Justin, Nearly Headless Nick—all looking none the worse for their Petrifaction, save for the intense worry twisting their features.  She watched disinterestedly as Colin saw her, started slightly, and then began whispering furiously to Justin.

"Aeryn—"  

Aeryn turned her gaze back to Ron.  He put a hand on her arm, his eyes studying her face intently.  "Are you okay?" he asked in a low, anxious voice.  "What happened to you?  Where's Lockhart?"

Aeryn regarded her young friend for a long moment before shaking her head slightly.  "He's dead," she said quietly.

Hermione gave a strangled gasp and pulled away from Harry, her eyes wide as she regarded Aeryn.  There was a muffled clatter of feet against stone as the four other un-Petrified people hesitantly began to make their way down the hallway towards them.  Ron's gaze traveled across Aeryn's face, and an odd flicker crossed his features.  

"Lockhart's _dead?" _Hermione choked.

Ron slowly reached up to touch Aeryn's cheek.  The flicker crossed his face again, and as he brought his fingers away from her skin, Aeryn saw they were stained crimson.  

"What's happening with Professor Snape?" she asked, and was surprised to hear her voice trembling.

The boy tore his gaze away from his bloodstained fingers.  "I don't know—" He looked from Aeryn to Harry, and then back to Aeryn again and gulped.  "I did what you told me to do, and I called Professor McGonagall—they got him up here, but we weren't allowed in there—" He gestured towards the door, desperation settling across his freckled face.  "I told them what had happened to him, you know, what Lockhart did to him—"

Aeryn silently walked past her friend towards the closed infirmary doors, barely noticing how the clump of un-Petrified students shrank suddenly away from her as she passed.  She grasped the doorknob and gave it a firm push, but it was tightly shut.  Her brow furrowed as she shouldered her full weight against the door, to no avail.  Ron was fast on her heels, continuing his tale: "The Ministry of Magic got here about fifteen minutes ago—a few of them were sent out to see if they could find Lockhart to try and stop him—"

Aeryn rattled the door fiercely in its frame.

"Aeryn—" Ron's voice dropped and he stepped close to her.  "I didn't tell them anything about your—powers—or anything about—you know—you and Snape—I didn't think I needed to—"

"Okay, Ron," she said, more sharply than she had intended.  The boy's words cut off as if she had slapped him.  Aeryn clenched her jaw and put a hand to her forehead.  She must stay in control.  She must not….

After a second, she trusted her composure enough to turn and look at the boy.  He regarded her warily, as if he expected her to spring upon him at any second, and a sad smile twitched the edges of her lips.  She quickly reached out and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and looked back down the hallway towards Harry and Hermione.  

"You guys stay out here," she said firmly.

They nodded wordlessly, an apprehensive fear tightening their features.   With a deep breath, Aeryn turned back to the door and put her hand on the doorknob.  She _quested _quickly into the door—the lock tripped with a sharp click—and she turned the knob and flung the door open.

Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall looked up sharply from the medicines table as Aeryn burst into the room.  Madam Pomfrey halted in mid-bustle, staring wildly at the girl.  And in the corner of the room, at the head of the bed, she noticed with a slight shock Headmaster Dumbledore, his normally twinkling eyes somber as he regarded her calmly.  But Aeryn passed only a cursory glance over the professors as her gaze latched, horrified, onto the figure lying in the bed.  

Snape was barely recognizable.  His black hair was plastered to his head with sweat and straggled limply on the pillows.  From his forehead to his cheekbones, his skin was the pale, dead color of a fish's underbelly, but below that his face was covered in congealing blackish blood.  The bed sheets on which he lay were stained more red than white and as she stared at him, paralyzed with shock, she noticed a wet, oozing driblet escaping from his open mouth.

—_That's what you get for messing with Magical Me, old chap—_

The gleeful whisper surfaced in her mind for an instant and evaporated just as quickly, leaving an overwhelming sickness echoing through her veins.

An anguished groan rasped suddenly from the Potions master's throat, and the teachers sprung from their petrification.

"No students!" cried Madam Pomfrey frantically, grabbing a small bottle from the medicine table and uncorking it with a sharp yank.  "Get her out of here!"

Aeryn took a step towards the bed, but Professor McGonagall was immediately in her path, her eyes wild behind their square-rimmed glasses.  "You can't be in here," she said severely, seizing Aeryn's arm.  "We'll—"

"How is he?" Aeryn interrupted, trying unsuccessfully to pull away from McGonagall's grasp.  

"You have to leave _now_, Miss Blake," the deputy headmistress exclaimed, tightening her grip.  She glanced down at the girl's face and her brow furrowed slightly.  "Are you all right?" she asked in a lower voice, beginning to pull Aeryn towards the door.  "Is Mr. Potter all right?"

Aeryn braced her feet against the infirmary floor.  "We're okay," she said sharply, pulling against Professor McGonagall's hand.  She glanced over her shoulder towards the bed, towards the clump of hovering professors.  "Professor Snape—I know what's wrong with him—"

"He'll be fine—" The deputy headmistress's voice was brisk as she yanked Aeryn's arm and steered her towards the door.  "We've got it under control—" 

But as her fingers brushed the doorknob, the infirmary door was suddenly flung open.  Both McGonagall and Aeryn halted in their tracks at the sight of three wet and bedraggled figures.  Two tall men dressed all in black and clutching broomsticks stepped into the infirmary, but it was the gray-haired figure between them that caught Aeryn's eye.  He, too, clutched a broomstick, and his odd mixture of clothes—a pinstriped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots—served only to accentuate the anxious expression on his face.

He looked pointedly at McGonagall.

"Lockhart is dead," he said.

Another agony-riddled groan split the air behind Aeryn, and she twisted around in the deputy headmistress' grasp in time to see Madam Pomfrey hurry to the head of the bed, her wand writhing in her fingers.  "He's hemorrhaging—"

"How?" Professor McGonagall asked weakly.

Over by Snape, Professor Flitwick leapt to his feet, clutching his wand tightly.

"Decapitated," one of the wizards said, and Aeryn looked back over at him to see him swallow, looking slightly ill.  "We found him on the lake, along with this."  Before the deputy headmistress' eyes he hefted a glittering sword, which Aeryn recognized belatedly as the one she had forgotten after her battle.

There was a rustle of cloth beside her, and Headmaster Dumbledore was suddenly at Aeryn's side.  He somberly stretched out a hand to take the sword.  His blue eyes flickered from the jeweled hilt, to the wizards, and then finally turned to rest on Aeryn.

"Mr. Potter?" he murmured, handing the sword back to the tall wizard.

"Harry's okay," she replied quickly.  "Headmaster Dumbledore—"

"And you?"

_"Yes, _I'm fine—"

_"Albus!"  _Madam Pomfrey shrieked suddenly behind them, and Dumbledore spun quickly on his heel, hurrying over to Snape's side.

"Minerva," he called over his shoulder.  "Please see Miss Blake out."

A strangled, choking sound came from the Potions master.

_"No!" _Aeryn yelled desperately, trying to fling herself towards the bed.  She pulled vainly at McGonagall's hand, her mind racing.  "Listen to me, I can help, I know what's happened—"

"You're Aeryn Blake?"  The gray-haired wizard grabbed her other arm, and Aeryn suddenly found herself being pulled forcefully from the room.  "Thank goodness you're all right—we were looking for you out there—I'm Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic—come with us, we need to ask you some questions about Gilderoy Lockhart—"

"Let me _go," _she cried, throwing her weight forwards.

 "I can stop the hemorrhaging after it's started," she heard Madam Pomfrey mutter.  "But I don't know what's causing it—I can't—"

Aeryn latched her hand around the doorframe as both Fudge and McGonagall bodily tried to heave her from the room.  _"Please—_Professor McGonagall—"

"Move over, Poppy," Dumbledore said calmly.  "What are his symptoms?"  

Madam Pomfrey began nervously ticking off the symptoms, her voice shaking.  "Internal hemorrhaging—bleeding from bodily orifices—loss of muscle control—"

_—Swollen, purple tongue, inability to swallow, and swelling of throat to constrict breathing—_the knowledge flooded into her mind with amazing clarity, and Aeryn's eyes flew open in understanding.  

_"It's a variation of the Seventh Seal Curse!" _she screamed, cutting off Madam Pomfrey in mid-word.

The hands reining her in froze, and for half an instant, there was a shocked silence.

"What?" the school nurse choked finally.

_"Eblaris charbonia _instead of _eblaris anthraxa."  _The answer fell from her lips instantly, and she saw clearly in her mind's eye the words…as they spilled across the blank page of the diary, gleaming wetly…_You realize that a slight change of words in the Seventh Seal Curse would drastically change the makeup of the spell and greatly prolong the misery of the receiver—but, of course, a great wizard such as yourself would already realize that—_

Her eyes flew to the broken Snape, and a frisson of sympathetic pain shivered down her spine in response.

"She could be right," Madam Pomfrey muttered, understanding beginning to creep into her eyes.  "I think she's right—yes—"

"How do you know that—" began Cornelius Fudge, but the Potions master spasmed in the bed and gave a loud gurgle, and the room again erupted into chaos.

Professor McGonagall let go of Aeryn's arm and hurriedly drew her wand.  "Get her out of here!" she snapped over her shoulder to Fudge as she dashed to the bedside.  "Albus—is the Seventh Seal Curse even curable—"

Dumbledore placed his fingers against Snape's forehead, his eyes crinkling in concentration.  "Since it's a variant and not the real curse—in theory, yes—but only if we catch it in time—"

Two pairs of strong hands latched again around Aeryn's arms.  A snarl flew from her throat and Aeryn fought against them, struggling like a wild animal as they attempted to pull her from the room.  Her flailing hands grabbed hold of a bed frame and she clung to it like a life preserver.  

"Have you tried using Reconstruction Potion?" Dumbledore asked, pulling out his wand.

_"Yes!"_  Madam Pomfrey exclaimed tearfully.  "But it's not working—it's like something is blocking me—"

There was a piercing _screech _as the bed frame scooted across the floor towards the door.  "Come _on, _Miss Blake!" snarled one of the Ministry wizards, and as Aeryn's grip did not slacken, they instead wrapped their arms around her waist and lifted her from the ground, tearing her away forcefully.

Professor Sprout looked up wildly from a beaker full of green, burbling liquid.  "But that should work—"

Aeryn shrieked and spread her arms wide, latching onto the doorframe as the wizards unsuccessfully tried to pull her through.

"Something must be counteracting it—" muttered Professor Flitwick.

_—Of course there is, you idiots, but there's no way I'd tell you—_

"He's been taking a combination of powdered asphodel and nightshade!" Aeryn screamed immediately before she had a chance to stop herself.

Professor Sprout whipped her head around and stared at her.  _"What?"_

"With toad's blood and henbane," Aeryn continued.  Her muscles quivered as she clung to the doorframe.  "That might be what's counteracting the Reconstruction Potion."

"Put her down," Dumbledore said sharply to the Ministry wizards, and Aeryn was immediately released.  

Madam Pomfrey straightened.  "How long has he been taking it?" she demanded.

Aeryn swallowed and stepped back into the room, her heart thudding at the knowing glint that had crept into the headmaster's eyes.  "He stopped taking it in March, but the effects might still be lingering in his bloodstream."

Professor Sprout's brow furrowed, and she got to her feet, hurrying over to the medicine table.  "That could be it," she muttered half to herself as she uncorked several bottles and began to pour the contents into an empty beaker.  "But—why—"

A wary look had crept over McGonagall's face.  "How do you know all this?" she asked, her eyes piercing as she studied Aeryn.

Aeryn hesitated for only a second.

"From the beginning of school until Christmas, Snape has been under the influence of a poison called Berserker's Mead," she said, trying her best to keep her voice calm.  

Fudge's face twisted in puzzlement.  "The _what?"  _

"Oh, dear God…" Professor Sprout whispered.__

It was amazing, Aeryn thought detachedly, how easily the words fell from her lips.  "Since Christmas, he has been taking the antidote.  Which I have been preparing for him."

Professor McGonagall sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair.  "How—"

"The Berserker's Mead was being prepared and administered by Gilderoy Lockhart."  A hysterical, humorless giggle escaped her lips, and Aeryn pressed her palms flat to her sides to hide their trembling.  She kept her eyes trained on the body in the blood-soaked bed, not trusting herself to look anyone in the face.  "Who was behind the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, whom Snape and I were preparing to expose."  The words caught in her throat, and she had to pause slightly before continuing.  "Who cast the Seventh Spell Curse on Snape, who tried to kidnap one of my best friends, and whom I just killed."

For a heartbeat, there was silence.  Then, as her words sunk in, the room exploded in chaos.

"He _what?"_ exclaimed Fudge.

_"Lockhart?" _gasped Professor Flitwick.

Professor Sprout's face was white.  "But Berserker's Mead is—"

McGonagall's eyes flashed as a horrified, suspicious look darkened her features.  "Why were you—"

Aeryn looked pleadingly towards Dumbledore.  The headmaster's bearded face was impassive as he regarded her through his half-moon glasses.  Aeryn swallowed and gathered her courage about her.  "Headmaster, please—let me help."  She stretched a hand towards him, the desperation in her voice almost tangible.  "I will explain everything later, I promise, but let me help."  

Dumbledore did not move.  

"Please," Aeryn whispered, unable to keep the quaver from her voice.  "Had it not been for Professor Snape, I would be the one lying on that bed right now."  She drew a deep, struggling breath.  "Please.  I owe him that much."

The headmaster still did not move, and a paralyzing hopelessness lanced through Aeryn's body.  But then, his blue eyes flickered with a fraction of their usual warmth, and he inclined his head with the slightest movement.

"Wait a second!"  Fudge sputtered as Aeryn gave Dumbledore a grateful look and hurried over to Madam Pomfrey's side.  "How—how does she know what—"

"Later, Cornelius," Dumbledore murmured, but an underlying iron edged his words, and the Minister of Magic fell silent.

Aeryn bent over the medicine table, her fingers hovering over the half-filled beaker and the unstoppered ingredients.  Her brow furrowed in concentration, and she bent her nose to the beaker, giving a cautious sniff.  After a second, she straightened.  "Madam," she said, picking up the beaker and holding it out to the school nurse.  "If we add some wormwood to the Restoration Potion, it might help stop the hemorrhaging."

Madam Pomfrey took the beaker from Aeryn, a skeptical look on her face.  "But that would cancel out the effects of the phoenix tears in the potion."

She hadn't thought of that.  Aeryn bit her lip, racking her collective memories for an answer.  "True," she said slowly.  "But even if it does, it should neutralize the effects of the asphodel and nightshade in his system, which would allow the phoenix _feathers _to work."

"You may be right," Madam Pomfrey said after a moment.  Without another word, she whisked into the back room, carrying the beaker in one hand.

A pained hiss erupted from Snape, and Aeryn quickly pushed past Professors Sprout and Flitwick to his side.  The Potions master's face was twisted in agony, and for the first time Aeryn was able to see clearly what the spell had done.  The hot smell of iron was redolent about him, and the sheets were so soaked with blood that Aeryn could see clots forming on the fabric.  She saw with horror that a fresh gout of blood was oozing slowly from his mouth, nose, and ears.  He gurgled and moved his head slightly, cracking open his eyes, and it took all of Aeryn's willpower not to recoil as she watched trickles of red trace down his cheeks like tears.  With suddenly clumsy hands, she pulled her wand from her sleeve and waved it above him.  _"Placare," _she whispered, and Snape slumped back against the crimson-stained sheets.__

"Here."  Madam Pomfrey reappeared next to Aeryn, holding the bubbling beaker beneath her nose.  "See if this works."

Aeryn carefully took the beaker and leaned over the Potions master.  He was barely breathing, but the sound rasped from his throat as if being dragged across meat hooks.  She reached jerkily for his face, but her fingers stopped short from his blood-slicked chin.  There was blood _everywhere—_he was only just breathing, how was she supposed to get him to drink this—he made a gurgling noise, and she pulled back her hand with a small squeak.

"Madam—" she said weakly.  "Help—"

"Let me," Madam Pomfrey said briskly at her shoulder.  Aeryn stepped back and handed the beaker to the school nurse, who quickly grasped Snape's jaw and began pouring the mixture down his throat.  The Potions master writhed beneath her touch, the movement nearly making Madam Pomfrey drop the beaker.

"Hold his arms!" the school nurse barked, and Aeryn quickly scooted around her and pinned Snape's arms to the bed.  Her pulse was thudding in the base of her throat as Madam Pomfrey doggedly forced open his mouth again and poured in the rest of the potion.

As the last drop disappeared down his throat, Aeryn released him and stepped back, regarding him warily.  The trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth slowed until Aeryn was certain that it had stopped.  A relieved smile lit her face, and she turned to beam at the school nurse.  "There.  At least now, that's—"

A high-pitched, agonized cry split through her words, and Aeryn whirled around to see Snape writhing against the bed sheets, blood streaming from his nose twice as quickly.

_"No!" _she shrieked, grabbing for her wand, but Madam Pomfrey was quicker.  The school nurse muttered a spell, and the Potions master relaxed against the bed with a groan.  

Professor Sprout got to her feet.  She tapped her wand against her open palm, and two small brown bottles appeared.  "Aeryn, are there powdered dragon scales in either Berserker's Mead or the antidote?"

Aeryn quickly racked her brain, spinning her mind through Lockhart's tangled memories.  But there were so many—and so muddled, all running together, like the different colored dyes of a new shirt bleeding into one another—

"I don't know—" she murmured, trying to keep the panic from her voice.  "I'm not—I can't remember what's in the Mead—"

"Yes, Daisy, there are," Dumbledore interrupted gently.  

Sprout dumped one of the bottles into a beaker filled with clear liquid, which began to bubble and steam.  "And that—no, that counteracts—" she muttered beneath her breath.  

"Albus," exclaimed Professor Flitwick,  "since the Seventh Seal Curse itself is a variation of the Four Horsemen Plague—would _apocolypsa retourna _work?"

Dumbledore shook his head.  "No—by using _charbonia—"_

Aeryn stared at the bloodied bed.  Snape's fingers were clenching and unclenching spasmodically against the sheets.  

"Move over, Miss Blake," Madam Pomfrey said, not unkindly, and Aeryn wordlessly moved back a step, watching helplessly as the other professors huddled around the bed, talking to each other in low voices and every so often casting a spell over the Potions master.

She turned blindly away and put her hands to her face.  Her cheeks were cold, and the faintest sheen of rain still clung to her skin.  Aeryn exhaled and closed her eyes, turning her mind inward and concentrating.  Lockhart's stolen memories were knotted like string in the recesses of her brain, and it was only by sheer willpower that she could even begin to untangle them.  She bit her lip, skittering among the submerged visions as if she was playing mental hopscotch, shuddering only slightly as a foreign emotion would zip across her consciousness or a particularly brutal memory—

"This might work," came Professor Flitwick's voice suddenly, jerking Aeryn from her mental study.  She turned around as the little professor tossed a heavy book to the floor and raised his wand.  _"Detachus," _he murmured, slicing the wand in a diagonal above Snape's face, and a shower of lime-green sparks shot from the tip of his wand.  The sparks hovered for a second over the Potions master's face, then sunk into his skin with tiny bursts of light.  The Charms professor dropped his arms and motioned to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout.

"Now, quickly!" he cried.

Confusion and puzzlement were written plainly across the women's faces, but Madam Pomfrey rushed forward, her wand ready, and as she murmured a cure, Professor Sprout cracked open Snape's mouth and dribbled a few drops from a beaker into his mouth.  

Aeryn took a hesitant step back towards the bed as everyone leaned forward, watching Snape intently.  Several tense heartbeats passed.

"I think it worked," Professor McGonagall whispered.  "Look—the blood flow is stopping—I think it worked—"

The breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding exploded painfully from Aeryn's lungs.  She wearily sunk into a chair.  As her heartbeat returned to a normal rate, she realized how horribly her body was aching.  Lockhart had been able to land a few solid punches back on the lake.  She put a hand to her side, wincing as pain shot through her abdomen in response.

"Well, if you're certain the excitement's over, perhaps I can get some answers," Cornelius Fudge said in a loud voice.  He stood up, brushed a hand down his drying pinstriped suit, and walked over to where Aeryn was sitting.  "Miss Blake, if you'll follow me, I have a few questions that I'd like to ask—"

An inhuman sound erupted in the room, and Aeryn was instantly back on her feet, her gaze hurtling back towards the bed.  _No—_it couldn't be—

"Hemorrhaging—" Madam Pomfrey gasped, leaping forward with her wand.

"Inconceivable—" Flitwick mumbled.

"Even worse—" McGonagall hissed, drawing back as Sprout pushed past her with the beaker in hand.

"No," Aeryn whispered in horror.  She watched as the professors bustled around the bed, their faces pinched, and she suddenly felt very, very cold.  There was a faint buzzing in her ears, on the very edge of her vision, and somewhere, in the deep recesses of her mind, she heard the barely audible echoes of—_laughter—_

Professor Sprout cursed loudly and leaped back as Snape coughed and blood sprayed across her robe.  "What did you cast on him?" she snapped to Flitwick, running a hand down her cheek.

The little Charms professor's jaw was clenched as he spun his wand forcefully between his fingers.  "The curse works like a tumor, Daisy—it attaches itself to the afflicted and feeds off him," he said curtly.  "I thought—if I used an Unbinding_ Spell to loosen it, that maybe we could cure it, but it just—reattached itself to him—" _

He fixed his eyes on Snape, and Aeryn saw his shoulders sag wearily.  "It's a part of him now," he murmured, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

Aeryn could not move—could not even feel.  She watched dumbly as Madam Pomfrey straightened slowly from the bedside, running a hand through her hair as her patient hissed and slumped back, once again, against the bed sheets.  The school nurse closed her eyes and sighed, a drained sound that seemed as if it came from the very soles of her shoes.

"It isn't working, Albus."  Madam Pomfrey's voice was flat and dull.  "Is there nothing else we can do?"

All sparkle had fled from Dumbledore's blue eyes.  His lips tightened into a small line, and he shook his head, very slowly.  "No."  The word was filled with so much hopelessness that Aeryn felt as if someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart.  The headmaster stretched out a hand and laid it carefully against the Potions master's paper-white forehead.  Dumbledore's fingers slowly twined in the wet strands of Snape's black hair, the gesture heartbreakingly gentle. "We were too late.  Within minutes, the hemorrhaging will reach his heart and…."  

His voice trailed away before he could complete the thought, but it was unnecessary.  Professor Sprout sank into a chair, her face ashen as she stared at Snape, her lips moving soundlessly.  Professor McGonagall made an indistinct noise in the back of her throat and turned away, putting a hand to her mouth.  Professor Flitwick stumbled back a step, his eyes brimming, and Madam Pomfrey hid her face in her hands, not quite able to hide the sob that escaped from her lips.

Slowly, with leaden feet, Aeryn made her way back to the bedside.  Snape's chest barely moved as he struggled to draw breath, and through the mask of congealing blood on his face, his features were unrecognizable.  A queer pain lanced through Aeryn's heart and she gently placed a hand on Snape's cheek.  The blood was sticky and cool beneath her fingertips.

"No," she whispered, but it was a _no _of broken submission.  She screwed her eyes tightly shut.  They had been too late…if she hadn't stopped to speak to Ron…if only she had killed Lockhart sooner…if she hadn't been so weak, if she had come straight back afterwards…if only Aeryn had never prepared the antidote…if Snape had never taken the Mead…

_—if he hadn't taken the Mead—_

_—"The curse works like a tumor—it attaches itself to the afflicted—it's a part of him now"_—

Her eyes flew open as a wild—_inconceivable—_idea flew suddenly into her brain.  For a moment she did not move, but as the idea grew, she looked down at Snape's twitching form and a sudden surge of warmth flooded through her.  It could work—perhaps—this variation, like a tumor, growing swiftly within him—if she could detach it from him and remove it—

—_remove it_—

"Headmaster Dumbledore."  Her voice was choked and echoed hollowly in the still air of the infirmary.  She cast her gaze frantically towards him.  The headmaster was seated at the head of the bed, his hands folded as if in prayer, and he looked up slowly at the sound of his name.  Aeryn swallowed, the words darting about in her head like bees in a glass jar.  "If I had this curse—" _careful, careful, don't be too hasty, speak clearly— _"could I be cured?"

Dumbledore tilted his head quizzically.

"Could you cure me?" Aeryn repeated, her voice a bit stronger.  "Because I haven't taken the Mead or the antidote?"

Headmaster Dumbledore gave a half-hearted shrug.  "Perhaps," he murmured after a moment.

That mixture of hopelessness and frustration on his worn face, usually so sure and strong, rattled Aeryn more than she could have expected.  She gazed levelly at him.  "How certain are you?"

"What difference does it make?" Professor McGonagall asked, her voice thick.  Aeryn turned her head and saw the deputy headmistress pluck a handkerchief from the air and blow her nose loudly.  

Aeryn's jaw clenched.  "Please," she asked quietly, turning back to Dumbledore.  "Just answer my question."

The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry heaved a long, tired sigh.  "Sixty—seventy-five percent certain."  He spread his hands out before him in a bleak gesture.  "But it could as well be one hundred percent for all it matters, Miss Blake…you _don't_ have it…."

Aeryn looked swiftly back down at Snape's face.  A spasm of pain tightened his features, and all of a sudden Aeryn felt the memory of his hands clamping onto her shoulders, spinning her around—the look on his face as the spell had smacked into him—the gurgle as he slid to her feet, his body wracked with shudders—

_—Sev, you bastard—that curse was intended for Aeryn—_

Her lips tightened decisively. 

"It's worth a shot," she muttered.

She reached down, gathered her wet skirts in her fists, and determinedly crawled up onto the bed, the blood-sodden mattress squishing beneath her weight as she straddled the Potions master's chest.  The irony of the situation was not lost on her, but she did not allow herself to muse on it as she hooked her fingers in the collar of his robe.  "Madam, I'm going to need your help."  She cast her mind towards the medicines table, and the beaker half-filled with Restoration Potion rose in response and floated over to the school nurse.  "When I start, I need you to pour this down his throat."

Aeryn tore the gore-soaked fabric open with a savage yank, exposing Snape's blood-smeared chest.

Madam Pomfrey gazed in confusion at the floating beaker.  "Miss Blake, what—"

"Look," Aeryn snapped, pinning the school nurse with a glare sharp enough to cut steel.  "If he dies, it won't be because we didn't try _everything."_  She swiftly began rolling up her sleeves to her elbows.  "He's gonna die otherwise, so you might as well help me out."

The school nurse looked as if she wanted to protest, but instead, she grabbed the bobbing potion and took a hesitant step towards the bed.

Aeryn positioned her hands over Snape's chest and turned to the Charms professor.  "Professor Flitwick, will you cast the Unbinding Spell again?"

Professor Flitwick stared disbelievingly at her.  "What good—"

"JUST DO IT!" Aeryn screamed.

For an instant, the little professor lapsed into a stunned silence, but he lifted his wand and pointed it towards Snape.  "Well, it can't harm anything," he said finally, stepping to the head of the bed.   _"Detachus,"_ he murmured, and lime-green sparks showered across the Potions master's face. 

Aeryn's hands hovered above Snape's bare skin as she intently watched the sparks begin to settle upon his face.  "Make sure that no one touches me," she muttered.

As the sparks sunk into the Potions master's skin with tiny bursts of light, Aeryn leaned forward and clamped her hands onto his slick chest.

It was as if she had shoved her hands into a vat of acid.  Searing—blistering—_blinding _agony lightninged up through her arms, into her body—her mouth opened, but she couldn't even _scream, _could not even move—beneath her fingers, she felt the Potions master spasm, and it took all her energy to keep her hands pinned to him, to continue to draw—the spell, she _felt _it within him, black and parasitic and pulsating, and Aeryn _tore _at it, tears running down her cheeks as it rose within her like a flood of boiling water—

—but even as she clung to it, it writhed against her—within her—_away from her—_and as Aeryn gritted her teeth, questing towards it, she felt its dark tentacles stretch back towards the moribund Snape, the thin arms questing back into the recesses of his body—

_"Again!"_ Aeryn screamed in an inhuman voice.  The pain—a burning, twisting agony spread through her stomach, and she choked—pulling together her draining energy, she cried, _"Cast the spell again!"_

She barely heard the frantic rustle of the other professors, and even less the sudden cry of _"Detachus!" _from Professor Flitwick, but she felt automatically the jerk of the spell as it ripped away from Snape.  She urgently _pulled _at it, and a high-pitched whimper erupted from her lips as the tendrils wrapped into her, eating into her system like blight upon leaves.  It turned in her grip, and stretched back for the Potions master.

_"Again!"_

The spell was torn from him again, but as it writhed to escape from Aeryn's grasp, it seemed to grow sluggish, and the tentacles did not seem quite as long, nor their grip quite as forceful.  With halting movements, it reached back for Snape.

_"Again!"_

The spell shuddered suddenly and recoiled as if yanked back by an invisible hand.  Aeryn drew together all her remaining strength and _pulled—_agony like a thousand heated pokers buffeted her skin, and she wailed, her throat tearing with the cry—it felt as if her very cells themselves were being ripped apart, but still she clung, drawing the spell to her and forcing it into her—the tentacles shriveling like paper in a flame—curling away from Snape, grasping futilely back towards him—

With a small tremor, the spell slithered into her like water down a drain.

Aeryn jerked her hands away from the Potions master.  Her throat constricted—she could barely draw breath into her lungs—a wet slick coated her face, and her muscles began to quiver uncontrollably, and pain—_the pain—_her brain was on fire—_her blood filled with white-hot needles—_

She somehow found the strength to wrench open her eyes and cast her gaze about her.  Her vision was distorted—oddly reddish, and she blinked hard—the motion was so difficult—a wavering face floated into view before her—

"M…Madam," Aeryn croaked finally.  Her voice sounded distant and strained…she made a sluggish motion with her hand, or tried to, towards the bed.  "Blood…hea…heal…"  

The face disappeared from her vision, and Aeryn swayed, throbs of pain wracking her body.  Something warm was running down her face—she coughed, and choked as a hot, sticky liquid filled her mouth—there was a dull, roaring noise like the ocean in her ears, and she dragged her eyes up, and saw four distorted figures, like creatures from a funhouse, or a warped fairytale, starting towards her—but their movements were slow, as if they were moving through water—

Aeryn tried to speak, to say something—but her voice twisted within her and she gurgled—her eyes rolled back in her head—and as she slipped off the bed, falling to the floor, a black, suffocating emptiness overtook her.

_~*~*~*~*~*~_

**_A/N:  _**_ER meets Harry Potter!  ER meets Harry Potter!  The chapter title comes from the song of the same name from the musical '(The Who's) Tommy.'  _

_"Eblaris charbonia" – taken from the French for 'ebola' and 'anthrax.'  And, of course, you all know where the Seventh Seal Curse and the Four Horsemen Plague is taken from…_


	36. Sound And Silence

Chapter 36: Sound And Silence 

A soft light flickered behind her closed eyelids.  

Aeryn stirred slightly, feeling her muscles protest at the sudden movement, and she winced, giving a small grunt.  After a moment, she cracked open her heavy eyelids.  Her vision was blurred, as if looking through rain-smeared glass, and she blinked hard as a blotchy shape floated into her vision.

"Welcome back, dear," came a gentle voice.

Aeryn scrubbed a fist into her eye and looked back up at the shape.  The light congealed slowly into sharp lines and colors, and she recognized the familiar face of Madam Pomfrey hovering over her.  The school nurse's face was lined with fatigue, but a brilliant, reassuring smile creased her features as Aeryn looked bewilderedly around her.  She was lying in a bed in the hospital wing and—she gazed at it in disbelief—the bedside table beside her was piled high with flowers, candy, and other assorted gifts.

And the bed beside her was empty.

Aeryn's eyes jumped back up to Madam Pomfrey's face.  Her body felt as if it had been roughly torn apart at the joints and then stapled haphazardly back together.  Aeryn cleared her throat, trying to form words.

"Did…it work?" she croaked finally.

Madam Pomfrey nodded.  "Yes.  He's all right."  

The whisper of a thankful sigh slipped from between Aeryn's lips and she relaxed against the pillows.

Madam Pomfrey pulled out her wand and ran it briskly over Aeryn's body.  "Within half an hour, he bounced right back to normal," she said, and a wry grin twitched the corner of her mouth.  "That man has the resiliency of a rubber ball."

Aeryn gave a weak chuckle.  "Tell me about it," she murmured.  She closed her eyes thankfully.  The gamble had worked, and he was alive—and so was she.  A sweet relief warmed her body.  

"You, on the other hand…." Aeryn opened her eyes to see Madam Pomfrey gazing intently at her, her face now a mixture of barely checked worry and lingering sadness.  "We were afraid we had lost you for good.  Fortunately, we were mistaken."  She smiled, but the gesture did nothing to soften the seriousness in her eyes.

Aeryn shrugged slightly, unable to think of anything to say.  The school nurse leaned forward, pulling the sheet up more securely around Aeryn's chin.

"I won't even pretend to know what you did," she murmured, giving Aeryn's pillow a brisk fluff.  She paused and looked up, and her eyes met Aeryn's.  "But whatever it was, it saved him."

Aeryn blinked hard, feeling all of a sudden a painful lump forming in the base of her throat.  It was impossible to speak for a moment.

"I'm sorry…I yelled at you," she said finally, and was surprised to hear an unusual thickness in her words.

Madam Pomfrey smiled.  "No need to apologize," she said softly.

Aeryn turned her head and looked over at the bedside table, more to look away from the school nurse than because of any interest in the gifts she had received.  However, she couldn't help but be astounded by the sheer number of items piled high next to her.  There appeared to be about twenty bunches of flowers, of which the smallest was a half-dozen sunflowers and the largest nearly twelve dozen red roses.  Among the petals and leaves were scattered a large assortment of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, and other candies in such enormous quantities that Aeryn felt the beginnings of a stomachache just looking at them.  She slowly brushed a finger against the velvety petal of a tiger lily, making the bright flower bob merrily.

"Are you feeling well enough to receive some visitors?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

Aeryn glanced back over at the school nurse in shock.  She must have heard wrong—Madam Pomfrey _never_ asked a patient whether she wanted to receive visitors.  She was usually too busy clucking at the visitors to leave so the patient could get some rest.  But the school nurse motioned with her head towards the closed infirmary door.  "You've got several very worried friends who've been waiting outside since eight o'clock this morning."  

Feeling as if she had just landed in the Twilight Zone, Aeryn nodded her agreement.  The school nurse bustled away in a swirl of white robes, and Aeryn turned her gaze back to the flowers.  There were just so _many _of them….

Hesitant footfalls echoed on the stone floor of the infirmary, and Aeryn looked over to see Madam Pomfrey ushering in three very familiar figures.  Suddenly, the pain and weariness lancing through her muscles were forgotten.

"Guys," she murmured, stretching out a hand towards them.

Her three friends stepped forward.  She could see the signs of weariness etched beneath their eyes, but their faces were luminous with relief as they saw her.  Aeryn shifted slightly on the bed as they sat down on the mattress next to her.  

"Hey, Aeryn," Harry said softly.

Ron grinned at her wordlessly.

"Hermione."  Aeryn glanced over at the brown-haired girl, still standing at the side of the bed and regarding Aeryn with wide eyes.  "Where've you been?  You've missed out on all the excitement."  

Without a word, Hermione threw her arms around Aeryn and hugged her so tightly that her small body quivered with the effort.  The lump in Aeryn's throat grew even more painful, and she wrapped her arms around Hermione, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"I've missed you, too," she whispered into her friend's hair.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked as the two girls finally pulled away.

Aeryn shrugged, relaxing back against the pillows.  "I've been better."  Her eyes latched on to each of her friends' faces in turn, regarding them almost hungrily.  "But I'll live."

Ron looked over at the packed bedside table.  "Whoa."

Aeryn flopped a hand in his direction.  "Take some of it," she said.  "Please.  I'm getting sick just looking at it."

Very shortly, all four of them were sprawled across the covers of Aeryn's bed, gnawing on assorted candies.  Ron, as per usual, had taken the liberty of opening almost all of the Chocolate Frogs to see the cards, and Aeryn sincerely hoped they would be able to clean up the mess before Madam Pomfrey walked back into the room and had a heart attack.  She merely picked at a few licorice sticks, but the dark red color made her stomach queasy, and she hastily shoved them into the pile of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans. 

"So how'd you cure Snape?" Ron asked a little while later through a mouthful of chocolate.  

Aeryn looked at him, startled.  "How'd you know about that?"

Harry and Hermione fixed him with glares that could cut steel, and he guiltily ducked his head over his candy.

"It's all around the school," Hermione said apologetically.  "I mean…you know how it is here at Hogwarts…once someone finds out about something, everyone else finds out too…." Her voice trailed off, but not before Aeryn caught the underlying tension lacing Hermione's words.

"Oh, really?" Aeryn asked matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow.  "So is the fact that I'm a mutant and slept with Professor Snape also common knowledge now?"

Ron choked on his candy, Hermione's eyes widened, and Harry flinched, confirming Aeryn's suspicions.  She heaved a tired sigh and closed her eyes momentarily.

A heavy silence fell.

"Aeryn—" began Ron hesitantly.

"I've never told you what my real mutation is, have I?" Aeryn interrupted in mid-sentence.  Without waiting for a response, she stretched out her hands before her friends' faces.  "Sometimes, when I touch people, I can absorb parts of them—their thoughts, their talents…" She wiggled her fingers slightly.  "With the help of the other professors, I was able to absorb the spell on Snape.  And then—I guess—they cured me."

Hermione twisted a strand of bushy brown hair between her fingers.  "How'd you know that…"  Her voice faltered slightly, and she swallowed.  "That you could be cured?" she finished finally.

Aeryn sighed.  "I didn't," she confessed.  "But…." She tried to continue, to find the words, but the words would just not come.

How could she explain to them what she had felt as she watched the Potions master collapse at her feet in a pool of blood, taking the spell that had been intended for her?  How could she even _begin_ to explain the guilt, or even the sonorous, lingering echoes of Lockhart's gleeful laugh resonating in her memory?  

She could no more have left Snape in that bed to die then she could have sat back and watched Lockhart carry Harry away, not when she had known there was a chance—however slim—to save him.  A smile warmed her lips, a sad, frustrated smile, and she sighed quietly, shaking her head.  For, try as she might to explain it, all words dried in her throat and left her silent.

Then, suddenly, there was a warm touch on Aeryn's skin as Hermione reached forward and laid her hand atop hers.  In the same breath, Ron stretched his hand out and laced his fingers through Aeryn's.  Harry did not move, but understanding was clear in his bottle-green eyes.

Aeryn had to fight back the sudden surge of tears that threatened to choke her.

The rest of their visit passed quickly as they talked of simple matters: classes, end-of-the-year preparations—"Oh yeah, just so you know, McGonagall canceled exams," Ron told her, ignoring the sudden look of fury that crossed Hermione's face—and other assorted benign topics.

Inevitably, Madam Pomfrey finally bustled in, clucking about Aeryn needing to get some rest, and shooed the three Gryffindors from the room.  Aeryn waved goodbye to her friends and settled back against the pillows, yawning.  Recovery, she thought wearily as she closed her eyes, was almost more exhausting than everything she had done to land herself in the hospital wing.

There was a slight noise beside her, and Aeryn cracked open one eye to see Harry standing next to the bed, looking down at her with concern.

"Hey, Harry," she exclaimed softly.  She glanced back towards the infirmary door, but Ron and Hermione had disappeared, as had Madam Pomfrey.  "What is it?"

Harry sat down slowly beside her on the bed.  Aeryn did not like the look in his eyes, but she wisely remained silent, waiting for him to speak first.  She watched as the boy nervously flicked his fingertips together and looked down. 

"You did that with Lockhart, too," Harry finally murmured.  His voice was so low that Aeryn had to lean forward to hear him.  "Absorbed his powers."

Aeryn sighed.  "Yes."  She wondered just how much of that exchange Harry had seen, locked unmoving in the stern of the boat.  If she could only explain….

"His magic?"  She could hear his anxiety tightening his words.

She put a hand to her forehead and felt a submerged presence within her twist in response.  Ah yes, she had his magic, but….

"Among other things," she said after a careful moment of consideration.  

At last Harry lifted his head, and his eyes were bright.  A brilliant, warm smile lit his face.  "So now you're really a witch," he said, a happy relief tingeing his words.  "You can finally do magic."

Funny…she had always wanted magic, had always longed for it, but now that it was at her fingertips she almost wished it were gone…but Aeryn only smiled at her friend, not wishing to spoil the happiness she saw on his face by her gloomy musings.  

"Guess so," she agreed.  Then a wry expression twisted her lips, and she leaned towards him, dropping her voice confidingly.  "Although I'm afraid if you asked me anything other than the odd variant curse or a Memory Charm, I might not be able to perform it."

Harry laughed.  Then, before Aeryn could say anything further, the boy leaned across the bed and wrapped his arms around her in a huge bear hug.

Aeryn closed her eyes and held him to her.  His body was light and warm against hers.  She gently stroked his jet-black hair, resting her chin against the top of his head.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered to him.  "You know that, right?"

His arms tightened further about her in response.  "Love you too," he murmured into her shoulder.

They held each other until Madam Pomfrey swept back into the room.  "Come now," she said firmly to Harry, taking his arm in a businesslike manner.  "Miss Blake needs to get her rest.  You can see her again tomorrow."

Aeryn waved at her friend as he disappeared from the infirmary wing, unable to trust her voice to say goodbye for fear of bursting into tears. 

*          *          *

"Hello, Aeryn."

A gentle voice slowly pulled Aeryn from her cozy reverie.  She stretched languidly and opened her eyes to see who had interrupted her slumber.  A pair of golden half-moon glasses glinted softly in the light of the infirmary, behind which smiled a pair of warm blue eyes.  

Instantly, Aeryn was wide awake.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," she exclaimed, sitting up straight in the bed.  

There was so much she had to say—so much she had to tell him—but as she opened her mouth to begin, nothing came out.   

Dumbledore lowered himself into a chair next to the bed.  "When you are feeling better," he said quietly, "Cornelius Fudge wishes to speak to you about Professor Lockhart's death.  Just a few questions."  He smiled at her, his white-bearded face gentle.  "Mr. Potter's testimony earlier today clearly showed that your actions were in self-defense."

It took Aeryn a few seconds for her to realize what the headmaster had said.  She merely stared at him without speaking, turning his words over in her mind.  

_This was what you wanted, _a little corner of her mind whispered fiercely.  _Expose Lockhart, that was the first step, then you can finally begin to recover_….

But even that knowledge did nothing to loosen the knot of silence in her throat.  After a second, Aeryn nodded wordlessly.  Her eyes skittered away from Dumbledore's face to rest against the cool white tile of the infirmary floor.  

A curtain of silence fell thickly around them.

"Aeryn."  

Aeryn did not look back up.

"Why did you not tell me what Professor Snape was doing to you?" 

His words slammed into her stomach like a sledgehammer.   A hot rush of blood flew into her cheeks, and her hands knotted spasmodically in the bed sheets.  Anger and shame flooded through her veins, and Aeryn bit her lip hard, hearing her breath catch jaggedly in her throat.

No.  No.  Not like this.  Not when she was so weak, so unprepared for it all.  She could not do it.  Not now.

But the headmaster's words hung hollowly in the infirmary air, hovering like menacing specters, and try as she might, Aeryn could not ignore them.

She bowed her head.

"I couldn't."  Her voice was flat and lifeless even to her own ears.  She drew a deep breath, the action sending echoes of despair through her veins.  "I'm a mutant, headmaster."  The smallest of tremors broke suddenly into her voice, and Aeryn winced, screwing her eyes tightly shut as if the movement could force the quivers away.  "I never could do magic.  Never."  Her breath was coming fast and shallow in her chest now, and the words spilled from her lips in one last rush.  "I've been pretending all this time, and then—he would have told you that I was a mutant—and then even when he wouldn't have, I couldn't, because Lockhart—he would have—and even then I couldn't—"

Her throat constricted, cutting her off in mid-sentence.  The pressure of unshed tears behind her eyes was almost overbearing.  Aeryn whimpered and put a hand to her face.

The silence filling the room was stifling.

"Oh, Aeryn," Dumbledore breathed.  "Oh, my dear."

Something in his voice caused Aeryn to freeze.  Very slowly, she lifted her face from her hand.  What met her eyes nearly stopped the breath in her throat.  Headmaster Dumbledore was gazing at her with such an open look of misery on his strong features that it nearly made Aeryn sick to look at him.  But though tinged greatly with sympathy, sympathy and overwhelming pity—for that she could understand—his misery was also colored with unconcealed…crushing…_guilt_….

And a shocking revelation illuminated the darkest recesses of her consciousness.

"You…you knew," she whispered, more certain of this than she had ever been of anything in her life.  "You knew that I'm a mutant."

The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry heaved a forlorn sigh that sounded as if it came from the very bottom of his soul. "Yes."  

The breath wheezed from Aeryn's lungs as if she had just been punched in the chest.

Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling his fingers beneath his crooked nose.  She could see him visibly struggle to form the words, could feel his remorse wafting from him as if it were a strong perfume.  "But I could not be one hundred percent certain unless I asked you directly…and I could not do that, if I wanted to protect you."

Aeryn swallowed with a throat that had gone as dry as the Sahara.  "Protect me?" she croaked.

Dumbledore's blue eyes caught hers, and sincere heartbreak filled his gaze.  "You of all people know full well the suspicion held towards mutants," he said in a low voice.  "If I did not know _for certain _that you were a mutant, I could protect you from those who would hunt you, even if I was under the influence of Veritaserum."  

He spread his hands in a hopeless, sorrowful gesture.  "So I suspected from afar…and prayed that my suspicions were wrong."

Aeryn was stunned beyond feeling.  Somewhere, in the very back of her mind, she was screaming in rage, in anger, in denial—_no, this can't be happening, he wasn't supposed to know—_but all she could do was gaze with a wide-eyed disbelief into Dumbledore's face.  He had wanted to protect her_—_he had been acting in the only way he could have—_after everything I have sacrificed, you come here and tell me that it was all for naught—_

But no matter how she railed, no matter how much she cried to the heavens that it wasn't true…it was.

"Why didn't you tell me?"  She finally found the will, somehow, to form the question.  "When the Ministry—" it was surprising to hear that, even though her words were as disjointed as her thoughts, her voice did not tremble.  "When they came to test—you didn't—"

Dumbledore slowly rubbed his forehead with his long fingers.  "I could not, without them discovering you," he said quietly.  "When it comes to this—my hands are tied—so much is changing in this world and even I cannot…."

_Of course, _Aeryn thought distantly as his voice trailed away.  

She should be furious.

She had every right to slap him across the face and begin weeping uncontrollably.

She had at least earned that right, with everything she had been through.

But she did not.  She merely settled back against her pillows, watching impassively as Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wearily covered his eyes with one hand and sighed again, the same despairing sound as the wind blowing through leafless branches.

"Headmaster," she said.  

Dumbledore looked back up at her, his melancholy apparent in his face.  

Her hands were cold and she realized that her feet had fallen asleep.  

"Why did you allow me into Hogwarts?" she asked.

He gazed at her for a long, long moment.  Then, to her surprise, the smallest of smiles lifted his lips.  "Because you do have magic, Aeryn," he murmured.

Aeryn shook her head.  "No, I don't," she corrected him quietly.

—_not entirely true anymore, songbird, but the old goon doesn't have to know that, now does he?—_  

With the gentlest of gestures, Dumbledore leaned forward and rested his fingers against Aeryn's forehead.  Aeryn closed her eyes momentarily.  His touch was warm and soft against her skin, as soothing as balm on a wound.   

"It's all in there," he whispered.  "Locked away in your mind.  That is the only difference, you realize, between wizards and Muggles.  For Muggles _have_ the ability to do magic—oh, yes they do, if they only knew it—but it is only the mind of a wizard that has evolved to unlock that secret door in our subconscious."

His fingers gently stroked her skin.  "That is why you are so special, my dear.  You are a telepath—with the ability to see into the mind, to probe, to find that which is hidden and bring it to light.  I had hoped that, in time, your wonderful, terrible power would give you the ability to unlock your magic and allow you into this world to which you truly belong."

Aeryn stared at Dumbledore.  For a moment, his words rested momentarily in the air, and then the meaning lit her brain with startling clarity.  "That—" She put a hand to her forehead, covering his fingers.   "That can be done?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said.  He leaned back, his hand sliding away from her face as he regarded her calmly.  "I know because there was once a boy—a powerful wizard in his own right who was also blessed with the gift of telepathy."   He sighed and looked briefly away from her as if searching the walls of Hogwarts themselves for the memories.  Then he shrugged, and turned his blue gaze back to her.  "That combination was more than we ever could have imagined."  He stretched out his hand and laid it atop of hers, lying cold against the top of her covers.

"I'm afraid," he murmured, "that you have already met him, down in the Chamber of Secrets."

A small, forlorn, and knowing smile twitched Aeryn's mouth.

After a long moment, Dumbledore gently patted her hand and stood up.  The purple fabric of his robes rustled in the still air.  "I believe there is someone waiting outside who wishes to speak to you," he said, and without another word walked over to the infirmary entrance.  

He carefully pulled open the heavy oak door and a familiar black-robed figure stepped in.

Aeryn's heart stopped in her chest.

The coal-black gaze of Professor Severus Snape found Aeryn instantly.  For a moment he was still as if turned into stone, staring at her as if she had appeared out of thin air.  Then a slow, brilliant smile lit his sallow features. 

"Miss Blake," he whispered.

Aeryn nodded, her eyes locked upon him.  "Professor," she murmured.

There was a soft _click_ as Dumbledore exited the infirmary, closing the door behind him.

The Potions master walked over to Aeryn's bedside and sat down in the chair that Dumbledore had just occupied.  Lines of stress creased his features, and the hollow shadows of fatigue rimmed his eyes.  After a moment, he stretched out a hand and gently captured Aeryn's wrist.   

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his long fingers spidering across her skin and pressing firmly above her artery.  A pocket watch suddenly appeared in his free hand and he looked down at it, a serious expression on his features.

"Okay."  Aeryn could feel the slow throb of her blood as it pulsed between his fingers.  His fingers were cool, and she fidgeted slightly. 

"How are you?" she asked after a moment.

"Well."  He shrugged slightly, his eyes fixed upon the face of the watch.  "Any lingering effects?"

"No," Aeryn said.

She bit her lip and looked away from him.  A long, uncomfortable silence fell, broken only by the gentle ticking of his watch and the slow, rhythmic sound of her breathing.  She drummed the fingers of her free hand unconsciously against the bed sheets, feeling very warm all of a sudden.

"You took the spell for me," she whispered, the words coming out before she could stop them.  "Thank you." _If you hadn't I wouldn't have been able to save Harry and then_ _Lockhart would have gotten away and then_…there was so much she wanted to say, to explain, but though her mind flowed with a hundred different thoughts, her tongue was frozen solid as a block of ice.

"That certainly wasn't one of the most intelligent things I've done in my life," the Potions master said, and in his voice was a dry, reassuring amusement that Aeryn had not heard from him in a long, long time.  She smiled.

His fingers tightened slightly against her wrist.

"But you are welcome," he murmured. 

Aeryn bit her lip. 

"Potter has already recounted your confrontation with Lockhart to the Headmaster and the Ministry," Snape said after another long moment.    
  


Aeryn nodded.  "Yeah, I know."

He chuckled.  "Remembering a certain winter afternoon in Potions class, I can't honestly say that I'm surprised at the outcome."  

Aeryn gave a small laugh, and finally found the nerve to dart a glance back up at the Potions master's face.  His gaze was trained somewhere towards the floor, his profile clearly outlined in the sunlight from the infirmary window.  

The pocket watch had vanished from his hand, but he still held her wrist.  

Aeryn looked down at his hand.  He had nice hands, she decided.  A pianist's hands, or a surgeon's hands—suited for delicate work, intricate work that required a steady grip and a sure eye.  They looked as if he took care of them.  He would have made a very successful living in the Muggle world, although perhaps in his youth the other children would have teased him for being so careful about his hands, not wanting to play sports or do anything to endanger their flexibility.

She wondered why she felt so warm.

"He almost got away with it," she said softly.

Aeryn saw his head turn towards her, and she looked up to meet his gaze.  She did not know what she had expected to see there, but it was certainly not the calm puzzlement that she read in his eyes.  For an instant, she completely forgot what she had been speaking about.

"Lockhart."  She had to finally force the word from her mouth.  "If he hadn't bragged about it to you…you know, the whole Mead thing…he could have gotten away with it."  She shifted uncomfortably on the bed and her eyes slipped away from him.  "Away with everything," she finished lamely.

"He could have."  Snape's voice was calm and even.  "Fortunately, that wasn't his style."

Aeryn made an agreeing noise in the back of her throat.  Yes…now that he was gone, she could almost appreciate the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's flamboyancy.  Had he been different—for example, like Professor Snape—neither of them would have been able to figure out what was going on until it was too late, for he would have been too clever, too calculating—

_—as clever and calculating as his seduction, pretty bird, move in nice and slow and then—_

Aeryn hissed loudly and clamped her hands to the sides of her head, trying to wring out the sudden, cutting, _poisonous_ whisper that drifted through her mind like a fleeting curl of smoke.  "Stop it," she growled between clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the visions that leapt into her mind's eye.  "Stop it, stop it, _stop it."_

Snape drew away from her as if she had stung him.  "I didn't—" 

"No!"  The word exploded from her throat.  With great effort, Aeryn dropped her hands and looked at the Potions master.  "It's…not you."  His features were tight, and she swallowed hard, feeling the remnants of Lockhart's consciousness melt untraceably back into the recesses of her mind.  "It's just that…my crazy little acts of heroism have had an unforeseen side-effect."

The expression on his face did not change, but Aeryn could feel the waves of disbelief roiling from him. 

"Did Harry say what I did to Lockhart before I killed him?" she asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow.  "Absorbing his powers?"

"Yes."_  Odd, eight months ago I would have fought tooth and nail to keep anyone from finding out about my secret, and here I am volunteering information.  _"But I also absorbed…part of him.  His mind.  God, he's annoying."  She laughed slightly, but the sound was oddly tinny in her ears.  "Funny, that didn't happen the first time."

"The first time?"

Aeryn's heart twisted.  She was about to say never mind, that it wasn't anything, it was just a random thought that had no bearing whatsoever on reality.  But instead she sighed, looking down at her hands lying against the bed.

It was a little late at this point in time to be keeping secrets.  

"When I was fifteen, I absorbed the abilities of two powerful mutants who had killed my parents," she said softly.  Her fingers twisted distractedly into the blanket covering her legs.  The material twisted into little spirals as she twirled her fingers round and round, and she felt slight pricks of pain as the blood was squeezed from the fingertips.  "I wasn't born with telepathy or telekinesis.  But that's how I got them."

Her words trailed away into a stunned silence.

"Oh," said Snape after a moment.  He sounded as if he had something stuck in his throat.

Aeryn nodded wordlessly, still not daring to look up.

The Potions master coughed, an uncomfortable sound that tore roughly through the still air of the infirmary.  "So, is that how you cured me?"

"I just absorbed the spell," Aeryn murmured.  She captured a fold of the blanket between her fingers and began to pull at it, noticing how the material stretched until the small holes of the knit were impossible to see through.  "I didn't get any of your mind."  

"Thank God."  The underlying humor lacing his words was enough to pull Aeryn's head up, and she watched as a self-depreciating smile twitched his lips.  "I would not wish the dark recesses of my mind on my worst enemy." 

An answering smile drifted unbidden across Aeryn's face, and she gave a small laugh.  "It still wasn't much fun," she confided to him.

Snape raised an eyebrow.  "I believe it."

Their gazes locked, and they sat there, the silence pressing about them like a heavy cloak.  Aeryn tucked her lip between her teeth, feeling blood begin to warm her cheeks.  She wanted to tell him—now that this nightmare was over, that Lockhart was gone—now that there were no more obstacles to climb over to find redemption—perhaps now healing could begin, that events could be resolved—

"Thank you," Snape whispered suddenly.

The thoughts spinning in her head suddenly whirled and spiraled to a sudden halt, and Aeryn froze.  It was a moment before she completely understood what he had just said, and it was a moment more before she could formulate words.

"You're welcome," she murmured, unable to think of anything else to say.

The Potions master leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, his shoulders straightening as if he was comfortably settling to deliver a lecture.  "So," he exclaimed, clasping his hands around his knee.  "That bastard's inside your head now.  Not a very fitting reward for your heroic deeds."

She shrugged, feeling oddly light-headed.  "It could be worse."

"Could it?"  The skepticism lining his voice was tangible.

Aeryn made a face.  "I guess it's worth it.  After all, I cured you, didn't I?"

But the Potions master did not speak, and silence again descended upon the room.  Aeryn sighed and looked out the window.  The sun reflected in golden sparkles from the waters of the lake, and the trees were swaying in a gentle breeze.  

"Headmaster Dumbledore told me that the Ministry wanted to ask me some questions about Lockhart's death—probably so I can be cleared of all charges."  She raised her eyebrows, twisting her lips into a wry smirk.  "That should make for a cheerful conversation.  'Hello, Miss Blake, so did you really mean to chop off Gilderoy's head or was it just an accident?'"  She chuckled.  "I can just see the look on Cornelius Fudge's face right now."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snape flinch suddenly.  Had she been speaking to anyone else, Aeryn would have ignored the reaction as a slight twitch, a random uncontrollable movement of the muscles.  But this was Snape.  She looked over at him in time to see an expression that she was beginning to know very well indeed waft across his features, only to be wiped away the instant he felt her eyes upon him.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Snape quickly turned his face away from her.  "Nothing."

Aeryn frowned.  An odd tension underlay his words, and any time he said _nothing_ in that manner, it really meant something of immense importance.  "No," she protested, sitting up in the bed.  "What did I say?"

He folded his arms across his chest and did not speak.  

Her eyes narrowed searchingly, turning her previous words over in her mind.  "Something about Cornelius Fudge."

His lips tightened into a thin line.

The glimmer of a memory began to seep into the forefront of Aeryn's consciousness.  She tilted her head.  "He doesn't like you for some reason, does he?" she asked slowly.

The Potions master gave a sharp sniff.  "That's stating it mildly."

His voice was filled with such festering pain that Aeryn nearly flinched as it hit her ears.  Somewhere deep within her a little voice began firmly telling her to stop, stop, back up the train, she was digging too deep, she had no right to be asking these types of questions, that it wouldn't make any difference—

"Why?" her voice asked before she could stop herself.  

The whole of Snape's body tightened as if an Arctic wind had just burst into his face.  Then, slowly, his head swiveled around and he looked her full in the face.  His features were blank, as smooth as if an invisible hand had been stroked across them, but his coal-black eyes were smoldering with a mixture of anger and agony.  He drew a deep, long breath and stared calmly at her.

"Because," he said in a low, dead voice.  "I killed his wife."

Aeryn felt her cheeks cool as the blood suddenly drained from them.  She gaped at the Potions master disbelievingly—no, he couldn't have meant—she _had _to have heard him incorrectly—but he merely looked at her with his calm, level gaze, and she felt the beginnings of panic settle in her throat.  

"Oh," she choked.

Snape stared at her for another long moment, and for an instant she thought she would shrink into herself beneath the emptiness in his black eyes.  Then his shoulders drooped infinitesimally and he looked away.  "Your friends—"

Frantically, Aeryn leaned forward and grabbed his hand, cutting him off in mid-sentence.  

If he left it at that—if he went on without explanation, she would never again have the chance to ask him, of that she was certain—there was more to it than what he was saying, she knew it, she could see the dead agony behind his eyes, and he couldn't have—he _wouldn't _have—

"No," she pleaded.

Misery twisted the Potions master's features.  She clung to his hand, silently willing him to turn, look at her, see the desperation in her eyes—she had to know—if he didn't tell her, then she would believe forevermore—

"Miss Blake," he muttered between clenched teeth, and she could hear the echoes of denial in his voice, his desire to refuse—and the _pain, _the bone-chilling ache that leaches into one's soul and does not fade over time, but only becomes stronger and heavier as the years wear on….

Her eyes did not waver from him.  

"Please," Aeryn whispered.  

With a savage motion, Snape yanked his hand away from her touch, his features hardening into stone.  Aeryn's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach.  She had pressed him too far.  She silently cursed herself, looking down at the blanket covering her legs.  If only she could….

"I once had a sister," the Potions master murmured suddenly.

Startled, Aeryn looked back towards him.  His face was still hard, but eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall somewhere over her left shoulder, softened slightly by the sudden glaze of memory.  "She was fifteen years older than me, and I loved her with all my heart, in that silly, worshipful way that younger siblings do."

Very slowly, Aeryn leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands as she kept her gaze fixed on him.  

Snape rubbed his fingers across his forehead as if he were massaging away the onset of a headache.  "After Ariadne—my sister—graduated from Hogwarts, she continued with her studies and eventually became an Auror for the Ministry of Magic.  It was there she met Cornelius Fudge, and after several years they married."  The smallest of smiles flickered once at his lips.  "I remember going to the wedding and being very uncomfortable in my new robe that my mother had bought me, which is an unbearable torture when you are ten."

Aeryn gave a little grin.

"The years passed.  I attended Hogwarts, and in my third year my parents died.  I was already discontent with school—for numerous reasons—and this event only served to draw me further into my shell."  Snape closed his eyes momentarily.  "I was sent to live with Ariadne.  But I was difficult, to say the least, which did not serve to raise her husband's opinion of me.  We never got along, which—I am certain—was a constant strain on her.  Immediately following my graduation from Hogwarts I moved out, vowing to have nothing more to do with Cornelius Fudge."

Aeryn could see the muscles of Snape's shoulders bunch through the fabric of his robe.  She willed herself not to move as the Potions master heaved a long sigh, putting one hand to the side of his face.

"I became…involved with Voldemort's league shortly afterwards."  His jaw tightened.  "I lost contact with Ariadne for several years—save for the occasional package or letter at Christmas.  I'm certain—I could tell—that the distance between us disturbed her.  Greatly."  He coughed awkwardly.  "But by that point in time, I…."  

His voice cracked, and for a moment he did not speak, but his face was suddenly haggard and weary.  Aeryn did not press him to finish his sentence.  When he began speaking again, his words were strangely choked.

"One day several of us were chosen for a mission.  Voldemort's power was rising and he wanted us to…send a message.  We were often told to do this, by then it was no longer…difficult…for us."  He licked his lips, and his eyes were suddenly haunted.  "But this time it was different, this time he wanted to send a message a bit more powerful, a bit more personal.  To the Minister of Magic."  

Snape made a strangled sound in the back of his throat.  "I did not know that he meant the new Minister of Magic that had just been inducted that day, did not know that…he meant my brother-in-law."

Aeryn was silent as he drew a deep, shuddering breath.  "I went with four others to Fudge's house, and…Ariadne was there.  Alone."  She could hear him fighting for control, and her heart knifed sideways at his tortured face.  "We wore masks…she did not know that I was there…I had not seen her for nearly four years, I had not expected…."

He laughed brokenly.  "We had been instructed that we were fighting for the right side, that those against us were wrong and…evil…" His eyes screwed shut as if someone had just stuck a sword into his stomach.  "But…this was my sister…."

Aeryn put a hand to her mouth.

"She was strong.  She fought back, but she was outnumbered, there were four of them…." A sound resembling a sob escaped his lips.  "They killed her…and I…I did nothing—_nothing—_as they tortured and…."  

His voice trailed away and he turned his face blindly away from her, shielding his features with his hands.

Aeryn did not speak, but her throat was tight.

"That was the beginning of the end."  His voice was muffled.  "Shortly afterwards I left Voldemort's legion."  

His robes rustled as he sat back up straight with what appeared to be a great effort.  He pulled his hands away from his face and gazed at her.  He looked as if he had aged ten years, and wet shadows rimmed his coal-black eyes.

"Fudge doesn't know that I was there that night."  His words were broken.  "That I killed Ariadne with my silence, just as much as if I had pointed my wand at her.  But he knows that Death Eaters killed his wife, and that I was once a Death Eater."  His lips twitched.  "And so he hates me, and will always hate me, until the day I die."

He heaved a sigh and turned his head to look out the infirmary window, his jaw setting in the faintest echo of his professorial control.  Aeryn's breath was shallow in her lungs, and there was a queer pain spearing through her chest, as if someone had bound it tightly with iron bands. 

"I had bought that robe for her birthday," Snape whispered.  "I never got the chance…."

But his features suddenly crumpled and a pained, inhuman noise escaped him.  His shoulders gave a little shudder, and the Potions master covered his eyes with one trembling hand.  A stunned silence dropped like a curtain between them, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing.

Aeryn reached forward and laid her hand softly on Snape's cheek.

She could feel his jaw muscles clench and unclench as he fought for control.  As gently as if touching a butterfly wing, she stroked her fingers along his cheek, feeling the rough texture of unshaven stubble, the coolness of his skin.  

The Potions master drew a deep, shuddering breath and reached up to gently capture Aeryn's hand.  For a second, they sat there unmoving.  Then, Snape swiftly drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.  

Before Aeryn could react, he gave a sad smile and placed her hand carefully onto the bed sheets.  Without a word, he rose to his feet and exited the room in a swirl of black robes.  

*          *          *

The next day Aeryn pulled her robe over her head, giving a slight wince as the unused muscles stretched protestingly.  After several long days in the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey had finally decided that Aeryn was well enough to get out of bed.  Aeryn smoothed the material of the bodice with one hand, wondering for the first time why she had purchased so many unusable robes from Madam Malkin's that day in Diagon Alley.  Certainly, her white muslin robe was pretty, and would be cool to wear on this hot day—but she would stand out like a sore thumb in the sea of standard-issue black student robes.

"A shame all my _normal_ school robes have been destroyed over the course of the year," she muttered to her reflection in the infirmary mirror, tucking her short mahogany hair neatly behind her ears.  Ah well, she had been through worse crises.  She quickly stuck her tongue out at her reflection, doing her best to ignore the heavy black circles shadowing her eye sockets, and sat back down on the bed.  Aeryn reached beneath the bed, searching for her sandals.  

Cornelius Fudge had already visited her that morning.  "Nothing spectacular, Miss Blake," he had said in a very businesslike manner, sitting down in the chair next to her bed and pulling a thick sheet of parchment from thin air.  "There are just a few key details the Ministry wishes to clear up regarding Gilderoy Lockhart's death."

Aeryn finally found her shoes and slipped her feet into them.  She had answered the questions as quickly and precisely as she had been able to do so.   It had been surprising, she mused as she stood up, shifting her weight from foot to foot, that—for perhaps the first time since that evening on the lake—the presence of Lockhart had not arisen in her mind to comment or critique.  

Perhaps that meant he was finally fading away into oblivion.

Aeryn shrugged and straightened the sleeves of her robe.  Nothing spectacular, nothing special—Fudge had left as quickly as he had come, leaving Aeryn feeling more than a little relieved and less than totally reassured.  

All she thought about while she had spoken with him was Ariadne Snape.

Aeryn tossed her head and gave a little shake.  She still felt weak—a temporary setback, Madam Pomfrey had told her, it would be gone within the next few days as long as she remembered to take the medicine she had been given—but other than that, better than she had felt for a long, long time.

There was a rustle of robes, and Aeryn looked up to see Madam Pomfrey bustling towards her.  

"Aeryn, dear," the school nurse said, holding out something towards her. "This just came for you."

Curiously, Aeryn reached out and took the object.  It was a small silver box, no larger than a deck of cards, and wrapped lengthwise with a dark blue ribbon of silk.  Aeryn turned it carefully over in her hands.  The box was so intricately crafted that she could see no line, no seam where lid met bottom met side.  It looked as if it had been carved from a single block of pewter, with no way to open it.

Aeryn cradled the box in her palms, raising it before her eyes.  "How'm I supposed to open this?" she asked in puzzlement.

As the words escaped her lips, the box gave a sudden shudder, and Aeryn blinked in surprise as the ribbon untied as if by an invisible hand and slithered away.  A small seam fissured across the center of the top, and the silver lid folded open, revealing a layer of white cotton and a piece of parchment.

Aeryn's brow furrowed.  Slowly, she lowered herself onto the bed, placing the box carefully on her lap.  Very gently, she lifted the parchment from the box and unfolded it to reveal a note written in a familiar handwriting.

_            Miss Blake-_

_            Your presence has the aggravating habit of always unraveling my carefully planned words.  Really, it is difficult enough to deal with in Potions class, but when I actually have something important to say, it is downright maddening.  Hence this package, which I had hoped to present to you in person.  Since you are a reasonably intelligent young woman—even though a Gryffindor—I hope you will understand and excuse the lack of cultural niceties in this letter and not be offended as I commence to speak freely._

_            Had I been you, I would have let me die on that hospital bed, choking on my own blood.  I could not think of a more fitting punishment for the way I have treated you over the past year._

_            Yet you saved me—even risked your own life to do so.  Just as you had saved me, months before, on that cold Christmas night._

_            I will not ask you why you did such a thing, for there are some things that cannot be expressed by mere words.  But I do know that your generosity (for lack of a better word) stems from deep within you, and is as natural to your nature as breathing, as being, and its beauty stuns me._

            You may remember the gift in this box.  I offered it once to you in the heat of subterfuge and lust.  I offer it now to you without strings, without expectations—a shabby embodiment of my heartfelt thanks and gratitude, I realize, but it will have to suffice.   

_            I would have left me to die.  But you did not.  And for that—once more—I thank you._

_                                    Yours,_

_                                    Severus Snape _

Aeryn swallowed hard and folded the note with suddenly clumsy fingers.

"Well, dear?"  Madam Pomfrey appeared at her shoulder, looking curiously into the depths of the small box.  "Let's have a look, what have you got?"

Aeryn reached into the box, slipping her fingers beneath the layer of cotton.  Her skin grazed something cool, and she hooked her fingertips into a coil of something that slid through her touch like a stream of water.  

She lifted her hand and the light of the infirmary sparkled off a delicately wrought silver chain as it slithered slowly from the box.

"Oh, my heavens."  The school nurse drew an admiring breath.

The beautiful pendant swung free from the wrappings, spinning merrily as the thumbnail-sized blue jewel glinted in the light, cradled in its filigreed setting.

Aeryn's throat constricted.  Slowly, as if she was moving through water, she rose to her feet, barely hearing the awed coos of Madam Pomfrey.  The girl walked towards the infirmary mirror, the weight of the necklace surprisingly heavy in her hands. 

Madam Pomfrey's reflection was suddenly beside her in the mirror.  "It's absolutely breathtaking," she gushed as Aeryn jerkily lifted her hands to clasp the necklace about her throat.  "Is that a real sapphire?"  

The clasp fastened as easily as if she had done it a hundred times before.  Her fingertips trailed slowly along the length of the chain, coming to rest upon the cool smoothness of the jewel.   In the reflection of the mirror her skin and robe were unnaturally white, and against that setting the gem glistened like a live thing, magnified by the nearly-matching color of Aeryn's eyes.

"Who sent you such a gift, dearie?" the school nurse asked.

A thousand differing emotions danced in Aeryn's blood, and she was instantly aware of every small detail around her—the tiny draft wafting from one corner of the infirmary—the slight crack at the very right-hand edge of the mirror—the small thread trailing from the hem of her white muslin sleeve—the fading chill of the silver against her skin—but through it all, through every sudden memory that zipped through her, she felt…with a reassuring, comfortable realization…warmth.

And she smiled.

"A friend," Aeryn answered quietly, letting her hands slide to her sides.  Her reflection gazed calmly back at her in the mirror, and, for the first time, she saw the beginnings of peace reflected in the depths of her eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The idea of Ariadne Snape belongs solely to the wonderful Marie Antoinette, without whom I would never have thought of her._


	37. Nothing Gold Can Stay

Chapter 37: Nothing Gold Can Stay 

Aeryn pointed her knife to the breadbasket.  "Can you pass me the rolls, Harry?"

"And then I think we should go in the lake," Harry continued, handing them to Aeryn without missing a beat.  "It looks like it's going to be a scorcher today, and I know I'm not going to have a chance to go swimming once I get back to the Dursleys." 

"I can't believe that school ends in a few days," Hermione exclaimed, skidding the strawberry jam down the table towards Aeryn.  "The year passed by so fast!  Can you believe that we're going to be _third years?"  _

Ron swallowed a huge gulp of pumpkin juice and grimaced.  "Hope next year's a little less crazy than this one was," he said, poking his fork into a pile of scrambled eggs.  Then his face brightened.  "Maybe _this _time we'll get a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who's actually—"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

Ron shut his mouth immediately, and there was a sudden silence as the three Gryffindors looked guiltily at each other.  Then, almost apologetically, they glanced down the table towards Aeryn.

Aeryn rolled her eyes and stuffed a roll into her mouth.  Ever since she had been released from the hospital wing, her friends had made a concerted effort not to mention either the words _Snape _or _Defense Against the Dark Arts _in her presence.  Although she appreciated their thoughtfulness, it was seriously beginning to get on her nerves.  

"I'm sorry—" Ron began.

"Oh, do stop it, all three of you," Aeryn grumbled through her mouthful of bread.  "I'm fine.  Keep talking.  Ignore me, if you must."  She reached over and shoveled several pieces of bacon onto her plate, pointedly not making eye contact with any of her friends.

After an awkward moment, Harry cleared his throat.  "Well.  Anyway…what do you think about the lake, guys?"

Aeryn crunched loudly on her bacon as the other three began talking again about their plans for the afternoon.  She listened with a half-interested ear, but after several moments her eyes began to wander around the Great Hall.  Most of the students had already finished their breakfasts and were outside enjoying the early summer sun—which suited Aeryn just fine.  

The days following her release from the infirmary were beginning to weigh like a lead cloak around Aeryn's shoulders.  The stories followed her in a hissing wake through the hallways, as she walked through the Great Hall to breakfast, even in the Gryffindor common room….

_She killed Professor Lockhart, _she heard the mutters in their half-muted, horrified tones as the students drew back from her passing, and though the gesture stung her to her core, that she had been expecting….

_Did you hear?  She was sleeping with Professor Snape…_those whispers came later, when they thought she could not hear them, and when she whirled on her heel to confront—to explain—the whisperers had fled, leaving her alone and her words dying in her throat….

And then, more painful then all the rest…

_She's a mutant_….

Aeryn shook her head and dug her fork forcefully into her hash browns.  She had known this would happen, she had expected it, it didn't really bother her, after all, she still had the love and dedication of her three best friends, and after all, wasn't that worth more than any praise or adulation even from the whole of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Wasn't it?

The fingers of her free hand trailed absently down the silver chain of the sapphire pendant, and she closed her eyes momentarily.  

_It will be all right_, she told herself.  _In the end, it will be all right_.

There was a sudden rustle next to her shoulder.  Aeryn opened her eyes and saw one of the seventh year Slytherins standing beside her, holding a goblet in one hand.  She looked up at him, puzzlement creasing her face.  She had seen him before in the hallways on her way to class, but she couldn't remember if she had ever spoken with him, or even if she knew his name.

"Hi…er…."  She turned slightly in her seat.  "What—"

Without a word, the Slytherin held out his hand and coldly upended the contents of the goblet across the front of her robe.  

"Oh, sorry, Blake," he sneered quietly.  His face was expressionless, save for the ice in his narrowed eyes.  "My hand must've slipped."  Before anyone could do anything, he turned on his heel and stalked back towards his House table.

For an instant, no one moved.  Then Harry, Ron, and Hermione leapt to their feet, their faces twisted in sudden rage, but Aeryn merely sat where she was, stunned beyond action.  

"Aeryn—" Hermione was suddenly at her shoulder, patting Aeryn's wet robe with her napkin.  "Are you okay—I mean—"

"That big, stupid—" Ron growled, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards the retreating figure, but Harry grabbed his arm.

Aeryn batted away Hermione's hands, trying her hardest to ignore the huge, painful lump that had suddenly sprung into her throat.  "I'm fine," she said shortly, grabbing the napkin from the girl and blotting at the dark splotch staining her bodice.  After the first cold shock, the juice—or whatever it was—began to warm with her body heat, leaving the material of her robe sucking uncomfortably against her skin.

_It'll dry and leave an awful sticky residue, _she thought, scrubbing viciously at the small spray that had splattered against her cheek.  The backs of her eyes were pricking as if being jabbed with small needles, and she strained a breath between her teeth, trying to keep her hands from trembling, to keep the sudden welling in her eyes from—

"You sure you're okay?" Harry asked.

Aeryn finally trusted her composure enough to look up at the boy.  His face showed no outward expression, but she could see his jaw clenching and unclenching as he stared at her, and his bottle-green eyes were unusually bright.  Aeryn swallowed hard and gave a short nod.

"Yeah," she muttered, her fingers wadding the napkin into a little ball.  "I'm okay."

Ron was still glaring balefully at the seventh year.  "I'm going to get him," he growled, giving his wand a warning shake as Hermione, after a hesitant glance at Aeryn, pushed him forcefully back down into his seat.  "I swear, if I get the chance and I see that git in the hallways—"

Aeryn looked down at her robe.  Her skin was beginning to itch where the fabric was clinging to it.  With a little sigh, she scooted back her chair and stood up, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.  Her appetite was lost, anyway—might as well seize the opportunity and head back up to Gryffindor tower to change.  She bit her lip and touched the wet spot ruefully.  Of course, the _day _after she had washed all her robes….

There was a sudden whirring of wings overhead, and a flock of owls streamed into the Great Hall, carrying packages, letters, and other assorted objects in their various beaks and talons.  Aeryn looked up, watching the swooping dance of the birds as they hovered above the tables, dropping their deliveries in the respective waiting hands.  No matter how often she had seen this before, she was always amazed.

She was about to turn away and head for Gryffindor Tower, but stopped suddenly as a huge barn owl dove towards her and dropped a large green envelope on the table in front of her.  It gave a piercing hoot as it flapped its wings and shot back out of the open window, becoming a black splotch in the distant sky.

Aeryn blinked in surprise.  She never received mail.  She looked at each of her friends, raising her eyebrows, but was only rewarded with blank looks.  After a second, she shrugged, and sat back down at her place.  She reached for the envelope and eased the unsealed flap open.  There was a small object inside.  She gave the envelope a shake, and a little package wrapped in bright blue paper slid to the table.

Aeryn tilted her head.  She reached for it curiously, noticing that one corner looked as if it was already beginning to curl open—

_"Miss Blake, no!"_

Two hands grasped her wrists, and Aeryn was suddenly and savagely yanked out of her seat.  The untouched package rested calmly by her plate as a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, holding her firmly back.

"Don't touch it," said Professor Snape in a low voice.

"What are you doing?" Aeryn hissed furiously.  The remaining students in the Great Hall had all turned to regard the commotion, and immediately turned to their neighbors and began whispering confidingly to each other.  Her cheeks started to burn, and she was acutely aware of the Potions master's hands clasped around her, and the warmth of his lean body at her back.  "Let go of me!" 

Ignoring her attempts to struggle free, Snape uncurled one arm from around her and pointed his wand at the package.  _"Finite Incantatem," _he murmured.

There was a piercing hiss like steam escaping a teakettle, the package gave a little shake, and the paper sloughed away as if ripped by an invisible hand.  Aeryn heard the collective indrawn breaths of her friends as a small crystal ball was revealed, filled with a thick, burbling, sickly-yellow substance.  

Across the front of the ball was haphazardly pasted a piece of parchment, bearing the sharply scrawled words:

_ABSORB THIS, MUTANT BITCH._

"Undiluted bubotuber pus," Snape said tightly, motioning with his wand towards the ball.  "One touch and that glass would break, and you'd in the hospital wing with swollen joints before you could blink."

Aeryn could barely draw breath into her lungs as she stared at the horrible little ball.  "How—" She was vaguely aware of a very faint ringing on the edge of her hearing, and the heat in her cheeks had reached an almost-unbearable level.  She swallowed, the gesture difficult.  "How did you know—"

She could feel the tautness of his body through his robe, and heard the smoldering anger in his answer.  "I fortunately overheard someone discussing it this morning." 

"In your House common room?" she snapped bitterly, trying to ignore the wave of sickness that rose in her throat and threatened to choke her.

The arm around her waist tightened slightly.  "No."

Aeryn closed her eyes, her shoulders sagging wearily.  Her hands were cold—there was a buzzing like the whine of dying bees all around her—her mouth was dry, as if in the onset of the flu—_I can't deal with this, I can't, we were so close, I could have waited until the school year was over—_and she exhaled, feeling as if someone had just reached into her chest and squeezed her beating heart until it stopped.

_"Protecting_ her again, Snape?"

Aeryn opened her eyes and turned her head in the direction of the voice.  Oliver Wood was on his feet, his eyes glittering as he glared in their direction.  The arm slipped from around her waist.  Aeryn crossed her arms over her chest and backed away slightly from the Potions master, hoping the sickness she felt wasn't apparent on her features.

Snape's face was calm as he turned his coal-black gaze on the sixth year.  "Mr. Wood."  Aeryn barely caught the infinitesimal lift of his chin, the slight clenching of his jaw muscles.  "Although—"

His words were cut off as the Gryffindor Quidditch captain launched himself across the floor and smashed his fist with all his might into the Potions master's face.  Snape went stumbling backwards against the Gryffindor table, and suddenly, all chaos broke loose.  Flying fists—a blur of black—the startled shouts of the students—Aeryn scarcely noticed as Hermione grabbed her hand and Harry and Ron stepped in front of her, as if to shield her.

"She's your _student!" _Oliver spat as Fred and George Weasley, their faces white, grabbed his arms and forcibly pulled him away from Snape's folded form.  The Quidditch captain's face was twisted with rage, and he strained at the hands holding him back.  

Snape crawled slowly to his feet.  His black hair shrouded his bowed head, but as he pulled a hand away from his mouth, Aeryn could see that the fingers were stained red.  "Mr. Wood—" he slurred.

"You sick _fuck!"_  Oliver screamed.  "How could you _do _such a thing!"

There were hands tugging at her sleeves, voices speaking her name—but Aeryn could not hear them, could not feel them, could not even think—she felt as if she had just swallowed a cannonball—her breath was short and strained in her chest—a stinging, burning sensation ran up and down her skin, as if a thousand fire ants had suddenly attacked her—

In the distance, she could hear the voice of Dumbledore roaring for silence, and before her she saw the pale faces of Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they turned to her, their mouths moving as if speaking—but there was a twisting pain in her chest and Aeryn could not take it any more.  With a strangled sob, she blindly pushed away from her friends, Oliver Wood, everyone, and fled from the Great Hall.  

*          *          *

"Aeryn, what's wrong?"

Startled, Aeryn looked up.  Her three friends were looking at her with very concerned expressions on their faces.  "Oh…nothing," she said quickly, giving a little smile.  

Harry didn't look convinced.  "You're not eating anything."

Aeryn glanced down at the coleslaw she had been absently pushing around her plate.  Her stomach lurched, and she laid down her fork.  "I'm not hungry."

"You said that at breakfast, too."

Aeryn rapped her fingertips against the tabletop.  "Must have been something I ate last night," she said after a moment.

Harry's face was condemning.  "You didn't eatanything last night."

"That is not true," Aeryn protested, pointing a finger at him.  "I had some chocolate before I went to bed, and you know that."

"But—" he began.

"Stop it, Mom," she said firmly.

Harry made a face at her and turned his attention back to his food, grumbling something under his breath.  Ron and Hermione looked as if they wanted to press the matter further, but Aeryn pointedly bowed her head and resumed playing with her coleslaw.  She probably should be eating something, she thought as she used the prongs of her fork to draw a smiley face, but if she forced anything down her throat she was reasonably certain that it would just come back up a matter of minutes later.

She didn't even want to be down here.  After the events of yesterday, she would have been perfectly happy to lock herself up in the dormitory and stay there until the Hogwarts Express came to take her away.  However, her friends had bodily dragged her with them around the castle, refusing to let her wallow in her self-pity.  All of which she appreciated—in a way—but even the best of friends couldn't shield her from the accusing glances or the scathing whispers.

"Are you guys done yet?" she asked for the fifth time.

Hermione sighed and slammed her spoon down against the table.  "I am," she said, getting to her feet.  "C'mon, let's go back to the common room."

Thankfully, Aeryn followed her brown-haired friend from the Great Hall.  "Thanks, Hermione," she murmured as they made their way up the staircase.  "I think I was going to be sick if I had to smell that cabbage smell for much longer."

"You _do_ need to eat something," Hermione said primly as they hopped over the missing stair and walked up to the Fat Lady.  "Forget-me-not," she said, and the painting obligingly swung open.  

"Don't you start on me, now," Aeryn said grumpily as they crawled into the common room.  "I've told you a hundred times, I'm not hungry."

"Hungry or not, I've got a parcel in our dorm that my parents sent me, and I think there's biscuits or some such thing in it," Hermione said, steering Aeryn towards the stairway to the dormitory.  "And whether you like it or not, you're going to be eating some—"

"Miss Blake?"  

Aeryn and Hermione stopped in their tracks and turned slowly around.  Professor McGonagall rose from her seat before the fire, her eyes serious behind their square-rimmed glasses as she walked towards the girls.  She clasped her hands before her and nodded at Aeryn.  "I need you to come with me, please."

Aeryn openly stared at the deputy headmistress, and she realized with a start that she had not seen McGonagall in the Great Hall for lunch—nor had she seen Dumbledore—nor Snape—nor the other Heads of Houses—

Her hands were suddenly cold.

"What is it?" she choked.

McGonagall's face was unreadable.  Without a word, she very gently placed her arm around Aeryn's shoulders, ushering her towards the common room entrance.  

Aeryn quickly twisted around and looked back at Hermione.  Concern was plainly written across the girl's features, reflecting the same emotions writhing in Aeryn's heart.  Summoning up all her courage, she gave the girl a brave smile.  "See you in a bit, 'Mione, " she said, and then allowed herself to be led through the portal.

They wordlessly walked through the Hogwarts hallways, Aeryn's stomach churning with every step they took through hidden passageways, behind tapestries…finally, they found themselves in a wide stone corridor facing a foreboding pair of double doors hinged in bronze.  McGonagall lifted the heavy bronze knocker and rapped several times.

"Enter," called a voice.

Professor McGonagall pushed open the door and ushered Aeryn inside.

Six heads looked up from the long table as she entered, and Aeryn swallowed hard to dislodge the huge lump that had formed in the base of her throat.  Her eyes skidded about the room.  It was small and dusty, and the only windows were small and crossed with heavy iron bars.  She bit her lip and turned her gaze back to the row of watchers.  Headmaster Dumbledore gazed kindly at her, while Professors Sprout and Flitwick gave valiant attempts at friendly smiles, and Professor McGonagall tried to look pleasant as she sat down at the end of the table.  But it was the two Ministry wizards that her eyes fell upon, and even more importantly, the gray-haired figure sitting next to Dumbledore.

"Please sit down, Miss Blake," said Cornelius Fudge, motioning to a chair facing the table.

Aeryn numbly did as she was bid, trying to ignore the yawning pit that had just opened in her stomach.  She folded her hands tightly in her lap and, after a moment's hesitation, looked up at Fudge.

The room was cold.  God, how it was cold. 

Fudge brushed a hand through his hair and gave her a large grin that held all bravado and no warmth.  "Well."  He looked on either side of him, but all he received from the Hogwarts professors and the Ministry wizards were serious stares.  He gave a little laugh.  "I don't know how to say this gently, so…."  __

Aeryn's fingers twisted painfully against each other.__

"Miss Blake, as I'm certain you have guessed, we are doing an investigation into your relationship with Professor Snape."

She felt her face go white.

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped—save for the fact she could feel the blood pounding through her veins, hear her breathing as loud in her throat as church bells—and it took her an instant to realize that Cornelius Fudge was still speaking to her, his words slightly muffled by embarrassment.

 "Of course, we have already heard the—er—basic details of the, um…."  

Why, oh why was her throat suddenly so dry, the words sticking to the inside as if they were catching on flypaper?  She paused and swallowed, trying to form her jumbled thoughts into something resembling speech.  "He was—taking—" Her voice trembled, and her tongue felt thick, as if it had been wrapped in cotton— "the Berserker's Mead—that's—that's why—"

"Miss Blake."  Headmaster Dumbledore's voice broke gently through her ramblings.  Gulping, Aeryn looked up at him, and her heart plummeted at the gravity in his blue eyes.  "That will all be taken into consideration."  

"But this is a very serious matter, and we are treating it as such." Aeryn looked back over at Cornelius Fudge, his face serious and his hands folded against the top of the table.  He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward slightly.  "It states clearly in the teaching contract that all Hogwarts professors must sign that they are forbidden to have…intimate…relationships with students." 

_This was what you wanted, _her inner self chided her quietly.  _All along, through the Berserker's Mead antidote, this is what kept you going.  _She opened her mouth, trying to speak, trying to form words…but there was too much to say, and she merely sat where she was, stunned, too lost to even begin.

She looked down at the hands tightly clenched in her lap and wondered, in the chill of the room, why her cheeks were burning.

There was a soft rustle of cloth and a light fall of footsteps as Cornelius Fudge rose from his seat and walked over to her side.  Very gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder.  "Miss Blake."  His voice was warm and low, a tone that would have been soothing in another time, in another place.  "We want to give you some closure, Miss Blake, but we can't do that without your help.  All we're asking is for a little bit of your time, and the answers to a few of our questions.  That's all."

Aeryn bit her lip, twisting her fingers against each other.  

"We realize that it will be hard for you, and believe me, we would rather not put you through this, but this is the only way."  

She dared risk her composure enough to sneak a glance up into his face.  The Minister of Magic's face was calm—too calm—even in her agitated state, Aeryn could feel his self-control, his careful desire not to press her too hard too fast.  He gave her a little smile and patted her shoulder in a fatherly way.  "And I promise we will make this as painless as possible for you."

As if anything could eradicate the pain of my memories….

Cornelius Fudge knelt at her side, his eyes fixed upon her face.  She could see the minute lines of tension edging his eyes, the slight working of his jaw, but when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and calm.  

"Let us help you," he said softly.

Aeryn stared helplessly at him, feeling the gaping pit in the base of her stomach yawn even wider.  She had wanted this so _badly_….

She forced her lips to move.

"Okay," she whispered.

Fudge nodded and gave her a small, reassuring smile.  "Okay."  He squeezed her shoulder gently and then rose to his feet.  He cleared his throat loudly as he walked back to his chair, squaring his shoulders and running a hand through his iron-gray hair.  "Um…."  

Aeryn leaned back against her chair, her eyes flitting nervously among the assembled witnesses.  Professor Sprout was looking intently at the paper before her as if she could glean the answers to life from it, and Professor Flitwick was nervously running his wand between his fingers and muttering to himself under his breath.  Professor McGonagall's lips were pinched together tightly, and her gaze was fixed somewhere on the far wall.  

A quill pen appeared in the hand of one of the Ministry wizards, and he tapped it once against the parchment he held as if to assure that it was real.  He turned to Fudge and gave a brief nod.

"Miss Blake."  Fudge folded his hands before him and fixed his gaze on Aeryn.  "As well as you can remember, when did Professor Snape's attentions first begin?"

Aeryn exhaled slowly.

As she turned to go, Snape's hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.  The professor's head lifted and his empty black eyes flickered across her form.  After a moment, the faintest ghost of a smile flickered at the corner of his lips, and he gently released her wrist.

"A few days before school started," she said.

The scratching of the Ministry wizard's pen echoed in the dusty air.

"What did he do?" Fudge asked.

It felt like there was something stuck in her throat.  Aeryn swallowed hard and looked at the floor.  "Nothing, at first."  She dragged her foot slowly against the stone.  "Just…looked at me…and said…things."

"Things?"

_You would have made an…_exquisite_…addition to Slytherin House._

She didn't answer.

There was a heavy silence.

"All right."  Fudge rapped his fingertips sharply against the tabletop.  "So his attentions began a few days before school started.  Was there ever a specific incident where you noticed that his comments…might have been overstepping the professorial line?"

Aeryn gave a little shrug.  "Not specifically."  She chewed slowly on her lower lip.  "Um…not until…."

No more subterfuge, Miss Blake.  I am tired of my advances being ignored….

She forced herself to continue speaking.  "Not until…he came out directly and said so."

"And when was that?"

"October.  Shortly before Halloween."

The scratching of the quill pen was deafening in the stillness of the room.

"And what did he say to you?"  
  


Blackmail is such an ugly word, Miss Blake.  I prefer to think of it as…capitalizing upon personal knowledge….

Aeryn tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling.  The ancient stone was streaked with soot, as if the smoke from a thousand candles had stained it until it would now never come clean, no matter how much magic or elbow grease was used.  "In a nutshell, he told me I had two options."  There was a slight quaver eating into her words, and she tried to keep her voice light, to not to think too hard about what she was saying.  She blinked, hard.  "He said…."

I can give you protection against the Ministry and keep your secret hidden from Dumbledore…that is, of course, if you give me what I want….

She could feel the control in her voice slipping, and she cleared her throat nervously.  "He would go to the headmaster and…tell him I was a mutant…if I didn't do what he wanted."

"Which was…?" 

Cornelius Fudge's calm, even voice asked the question as if he were merely inquiring as to the time of day, and Aeryn looked up at him, stunned that he could show such an obvious lack of emotion.  His features were gentle, his eyes mild, and Aeryn felt the minute tremors in her muscles and the sickness in her stomach, and she was suddenly furious. 

This clumsy, half-hinting prodding, trying to be so gentle but only succeeding in being agonizing, was as if someone had reached into her and was slowly tearing away the scabs covering her soul.

A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips, and a small portion of her brain was pleased as every eye in the room turned to her in surprise.

She gave a small toss of her head and folded her arms across her chest.  "Let's just cut the crap, shall we, Mr. Fudge?"  She leveled her glare directly at the Minister of Magic.  "If you want me to tell you when he started fucking me, just come out and ask it."  

The Minister of Magic flinched as if she had just slapped him, but Aeryn ignored him and doggedly continued.

"November first.  No, excuse me, November _second.  _Shortly after midnight, if memory doesn't fail me._"_  She spat the words from her mouth as if they burned her.  "And thus it continued practically every single day, until two weeks into December, when I beat him into a bloody pulp during Potions class when his violence turned towards Harry."

The faces turned towards her were now tense masks of seriousness.  Aeryn noticed absently as a muscle started going in Professor McGonagall's cheek, as Professor Sprout's lips firmed into a thin line.  She sniffed, trying to ignore the welling lump in her throat, and her gaze fell upon the note-taking Ministry wizard.  With a haughty raise of her eyebrow, she motioned with her shoulder towards the quill he held.

"Well?" she asked snidely.  "Why aren't you writing this down?"

The wizard's eyes were accusing as he tapped his pen against his roll of parchment.  "Miss Blake, we're only trying to help you," he said in a low voice.

"And you're doing a _damn_ good job of it, sir," she hissed, her eyes glittering as she glared at him, refusing to back down, refusing to break his eye contact, refusing to be cowed, and after a long, tense moment, his gaze faltered and slipped away from hers. 

The silence was stifling.

In the back of her mind, her rational self was furiously whispering, _they _are_ trying to help you, you know that, you should just tell them everything, it'll hurt less once you get it out in the open_…but, like a wounded animal shying from the fire that had burned it, Aeryn snarled and pulled her mind away from the furtive insisting.

Fudge heaved a long sigh and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.  "All right."  His voice was weary.  "Well…."  

—_if he runs the Ministry like _this,_ it's no wonder that it's practically falling apart—_

Aeryn bit her lips tightly together before anyone could hear her pained whimper.

Fudge dropped his hands and looked straight at her.  "There is something else we could try…but the choice is completely up to you."__

Aeryn shrugged wordlessly, doing her best to ignore the pressure of unshed tears building behind her eyes.

Fudge got to his feet and picked up a small case next to his chair.  He placed it on the table and flipped it open.  From it, he drew a large bowl, which he pointedly tilted slightly so Aeryn could see the contents.  Against her own will, she leaned forward, her brow furrowing with interest.  Inside the bowl swam a luminous, milky-white substance that shimmered like a pearl.  

"This is called a Pensieve."  He rested it against the table and drew his wand from his belt.  He paused meaningfully, and Aeryn slowly raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.

"Which is…" she said.

"An object used as a storage place for memories."  The Minister of Magic did not look at her as he tapped the point of his wand against his palm.  He gave a little cough and continued.  "However, with the use of a simple spell, those memories can…also be shown to others."

Aeryn's eyes darted from the Pensieve, to the tapping wand, and back to the Pensieve again.  Then, as the realization of what he had just said belatedly hit her, she sat up straight in the chair, her eyes widening.  

It seemed to take a very long time for her to be able to form words.

"You want to see my memories."  Her voice was broken, choked.

This isn't happening.

Fudge gave a small, barely audible sigh.  "It might be easier on you than this question-and-answer session," he said after a pause.

Aeryn stared at him, stunned beyond speech.

This can't be happening.

Unbidden, like a rising tide against the floodwall, the memories she thought she had locked away sprang into the forefront of her mind, and along with them all the fear—the pain—the lies—

"Miss Blake?"

The wound inside her was ripping apart, laying open her bleeding, quivering soul, and for a moment, Aeryn thought she was going to be sick.  But there was no choice.  She had to do this.  With a greater effort than she could have imagined, Aeryn gritted her teeth and firmly squashed the whimpers echoing through her brain.  

The sooner you do this, the sooner it will all be over.

She nodded curtly and waved her hand.

"Fine, fine."  She drew a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the hysterical beginnings of tremors wracking her body.  "Go ahead."

Fudge walked around the table and came to her shoulder.  As he very gently placed his fingers on the side of her face, she strove valiantly not to flinch.  

"Just relax," he murmured.  Aeryn screwed her eyes shut and bit her lip hard, willing her mind to stop whirling, for the sickness in her stomach to dissolve.

There was a soft tap against her temple, and Aeryn nearly jumped as she felt something _pull _away from her.  She twisted around in the chair and saw Fudge walking carefully back towards the Pensieve.  His wand was delicately held out in front of him, and Aeryn saw a pearly-white strand clinging to its tip, twisting gently as if in a slight breeze.  She nervously settled back in her seat, folding her arms protectively across her chest.

Fudge placed the strand carefully into the Pensieve and waved his wand over the luminescent interior.  _"Pensai defoi," _he murmured.  There was a soft hissing noise, and a bright glow spilled from the interior of the Pensieve.  After a few seconds, the light rose into a vertical column and thinned into a sort of screen.  As the viewers watched, a scene slowly came into definition: the interior of the girls' bathroom.

"You okay, Aeryn?" 

_There was a slight groan as the scene wavered slightly and then came to rest on the somewhat sleepy face of Hermione Granger.  "Yeah," grunted Aeryn's voice as she obviously struggled to rise to her feet.  The image swayed unsteadily for a moment, and then righted._

"Of course," Aeryn muttered to herself as she watched the projected Pensieve image.  Hermione had disappeared from view, and they were now walking back into the Gryffindor dormitory.  "It's my memory, so they're seeing it through my eyes…."

_Hermione's face floated above as she tucked the covers up around Aeryn's chin.  "It's midnight," the girl whispered.  "You'd better get some sleep—but if you need anything, you know, water or something like that, just wake me up and let me know, okay?"_

_"Okay," mumbled Aeryn's voice, but as Hermione disappeared from view, it took on a desperate tone.  "He's going to be furious," she whispered as Hermione's breathing slowed across the room.  "If he blows a gasket when I'm late for Potions_…._"_

"When was this, Miss Blake?" Fudge asked.

"I don't remember," Aeryn murmured, her eyes riveted to the Pensieve vision.  She shook her head slightly.  "It could…it could have been any day."

But the words rang untrue in her ears, for she _did_ remember this day…remembered every second with horrifying clarity, and numbness began to seep through her body as the vivid memory of what had happened leached through her consciousness….

_A clock was now visible in the image, showing it to be a quarter past twelve.  "I have to go," her voice whispered, and the image tilted as Aeryn clumsily crawled from her bed and silently began to make her way out of Gryffindor Tower._

The image shook as the memory took them through the journey to the Slytherin chambers.  It was gruelingly long, for every few feet it halted as Aeryn leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.  Finally, she reached the entrance to the common room, gasped the password, and made her way through the lamp-lit hallways to the heavy oaken door of the Potions master's bedchambers.  The door did not creak as it slowly swung open.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat loudly.

_The clock chimed as she entered._

_Snape turned from the fireplace and glared at her.  "You're late."_

Back in the interrogation chamber, Aeryn's throat was tight as she forced herself to keep watching the vision.  Sickness bled through her body as his image advanced, his features impassive save for the sparks burning flintily in his coal-black eyes.

_"I'm sorry."  Her memory's voice was weak, trembling._ _"But—"_

_Even in memory he moved with the speed of lightning.  His hands leaped out and buried themselves in her hair, pulling her head back until a cry of pain rang from the vision.  _

Professor Sprout gave a muffled gasp, and Professor McGonagall put a hand to her mouth.  Bile rose in Aeryn's throat, and she pulled her eyes away from the vision, the memories surging within threatening to overwhelm her.  

She tried to breathe normally as she wrapped her arms around her trembling body.  She would be all right…it was only a memory, it was over…she could do this….

_"You will not be late again."  His voice was calm.  "Do you understand?"_

_"Y-yes, P-Professor—" her voice whimpered, but her words cut off in a choking noise._  

She would remain in control of herself…she had lived through worse, it was only a memory…nothing was happening to her, nothing would happen to her, _but why does it feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, she would be all right…._

_"How_ _many times do I have to beat it into you?"  Iron had entered the Potions master's voice.  "While in my chambers, you will call me Severus."_

_"Please stop," she begged._

_"Say it," he growled.  Then his voice became throaty, a mockery of seduction as he whispered in her ear:  "You know very well what happens when I go to bed angry_…._"_

—she _must _remain calm—

"Severus," she spat, her voice laced with sobs.

_"Good enough," he said calmly. _

The chamber was filled with the murmurings of the gathered questioners, and there was nothing from the vision save for a pained, heavy breathing.  After a second, Aeryn trusted her composure enough to sneak a look back up, and saw the image of Snape regarding her passively.  The vision was slightly blurred, and Aeryn realized it was from tears of pain.  

—she would remain in control—

_"I can't."  The words exploded from her lips.  "No, not tonight, I can't, I'm sick, I have the flu_…._" Her memory gulped. "Tomorrow, yes, I will, I promise, but…I can't…I'm too sick_…._"_

_A sneer twisted the Potions master's face as he stared down at her.  "Is that the best argument you can come up with?" he drawled, a cruel glint entering his eyes.  "I'm disappointed, my dear, I really am.  I expected better of you."_

—she _had to_ remain in control—

_"No…it's not…S-Severus, please_…._"_

"Not good enough, Aeryn."  The image stumbled as he gave her a forceful push, sending her stumbling backwards.  There was a soft thud and a groan.  Snape motioned with his arm, his black eyes beginning to flame.  "Now.  Get in there."

A sudden, horrible coldness filtered through her blood—her pulse thudded deafeningly through her veins—she shook uncontrollably from head to foot—there was a dull, mournful ringing in her ears—

—_no_—

"Stop…" she choked desperately, but her voice was so quiet that no one heard her.

_The bedroom door slammed shut._

_"Well."  His words were quiet, calm, but in them Aeryn heard the same edge she had come to know so very well.  "You've made me wait over half an hour, my dear, and as you very well know, I'm not a patient man."  _

She couldn't breathe—her limbs were like lead, caught in molasses, no matter how hard she tried to move, she was immobile, stuck—she wanted to scream, to thrash away, to cover her eyes and her ears so she wouldn't have to hear—wouldn't have to remember—but all she could do was watch, stunned as an animal in a trap, as the memory played Technicolor before her—

She hugged her quivering body until pain shot through her chest.  "Stop…."

_She gave a whimper, but did not pull away.  _(Even at that point she had learned well enough not to struggle, for then it would be over all the sooner….)

_"You'll forgive me if I dispense with the foreplay, won't you?"_

Her throat constricted—the sonorous ringing in her ears was like alarm bells, pushing away every rational thought—a high-pitched whine escaped from her throat, and a blistering pressure threatened to explode behind her eyes—

"Stop—"

_There was a sudden, savage ripping of cloth—_

The sound tore through Aeryn like a gunshot, blinding her.  Her sudden scream cut through the air, all but masking the soft cry of her memory, and she _struck_ out before her with her mind, trying to crush it—bottle it away, shove it back into the deepest recesses of her mind, never again to see the light of day—sobbing desperately as she _lashed _out again and again, deaf to the surprised exclamations of the assembled questioners.  

"No—no—stop it—please—" The words fell from her lips in a babbling stream, punctuated by her wracking sobs.  She curled into a ball in the chair—covered her head with her arms—an animalistic keen, half-sob and half-shriek, shuddered from her—

"—I can't do this again—I—stop—please—"

—and it all came rushing back to her as if it was happening that very moment, all the horror, the gut-wrenching sickness, the feel of his hands roaming across her body, shaming her—the pain—the—

"—please—no—_stop—"_

Hands—someone grabbing her shoulders, trying to calm her as she thrashed—the muffled buzz of assembled voices speaking—

"Miss Blake—Aeryn—_Aeryn_—"  

Professor Sprout's voice, desperate and shocked, rang suddenly in the hysterical girl's ears, and the trembling Aeryn suddenly felt herself being held, at first so tightly that she could not move and she gave a small wail, and then the strength disappeared from her trembling muscles, and Aeryn began to sob, heartbreakingly, her hands twisting painfully in the material of the Herbology professor's robe as the teacher sank to her knees, pressing Aeryn's face into her shoulder.

For a long moment, no one moved, and the only sound that filled the chamber was the slowly-calming sound of Aeryn's tears.

"That's enough, Cornelius," Dumbledore said finally.  His voice was so hoarse that it was barely recognizable.

Aeryn drew a shuddering breath and half-lifted her head from Professor Sprout's shoulder.  She blinked hard to clear her blurred vision.  On the table lay the Pensieve—or what had been the Pensieve.  Her frantic telekinetic thrashing had shattered the bowl into miniscule pieces.  Between the shattered shards dripped the pearly-white essence of memories, smoking slightly against the dark wood of the tabletop.

The faces of all those assembled were sickening to look upon.  The two Ministry wizards' features looked as if they had been carved from stone, and Cornelius Fudge's eyes were tortured.  Professor Flitwick's head was bowed, but Aeryn could see his shoulders shaking, and Professor McGonagall had gone oddly pale and looked as if she was about to vomit.

And Headmaster Dumbledore—

"Yes," choked Cornelius Fudge, the word sounding as if it was being torn from his throat by meat hooks.  Aeryn slowly rolled her fogged gaze back to him.  The Minister of Magic rubbed a hand across his face and exhaled.  "Miss Blake, thank you—thank you for your—" He paused, and Aeryn could visibly see him struggle to search for a word.  "Cooperation," he said finally, and the obligatory smile he belatedly remembered to paste on his features was like the grimace of a skull.

Aeryn hiccupped.

The Herbology professor clumsily lifted the girl to her feet, steadying her as she stumbled drunkenly, nearly falling down again.  "Come along, dear," she whispered as Aeryn sniffed and dragged a sleeve across her face.  "I'll—take you back to Gryffindor Tower."

"Okay," Aeryn whispered miserably, and allowed the squat little witch to half-lead, half-carry her from the interrogation chamber.  The door swung shut behind them with a sharp screech.__

The pacing figure in the hallway halted immediately at the sound and turned in their direction.  Aeryn lifted her head to see who it was, and froze like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

Professor Snape's coal-black eyes jumped from Aeryn, to Professor Sprout, and then back to Aeryn again.  Concern immediately darkened his features, and he took a quick step towards her. 

Aeryn flinched away from him with a whimper, jerking her arms up before her face like a shield. 

The pendant around her neck was suddenly as heavy as a millstone.

After a second, she slowly lowered her hands.  The Potions master's face again came into her range of vision, his features smoothed into an expressionless mask.  He swallowed and she could see the muscles of his jaw working as he turned to the Herbology professor.  

"Daisy."  His voice was low and tight.  "I—"

.  The 

Sprout's hand lashed out, slapping Snape so hard that his head rocked backwards with the force of the blow.

A suffocating silence fell.

Without a word—without even another glance—the Herbology professor pushed past Snape and steered Aeryn down the hallway back to Gryffindor Tower, the trembling of her hands as she held Aeryn her only visible emotion.  

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from the Robert Frost poem of the same name, forever immortalized in the movie and the book 'The Outsiders,' written by S.E. Hinton (stay gold, Ponyboy!).  I was forced to watch and read it in sixth grade, and I don't think I've ever forgiven my teacher for it._


	38. And Wringing Of Hands

Chapter 38: And Wringing Of Hands 

Aeryn stroked her hand listlessly across the coverlet of her bed.  The texture of the scarlet wool was rough beneath her fingers, yet she continued to stroke it, feeling it rasp against her skin, dulling the sensitivity of her fingertips with the repetitive motion.  She was lying facedown on her bed, and she knew that, if and when she decided to get up, the latticework of the coverlet would be tatted across her cheek, looking as if she had just been branded with a waffle iron.

"Do you want to do something?" Harry asked softly.

Aeryn tapped her fingernails across the coverlet, hearing the barely-audible thuds as the material gave slightly.  "No."  

"Want anything to eat?" Hermione asked after a hesitant pause.

Aeryn barked an emotionless laugh.  "And go down to the Great Hall to face everyone?"  She closed her eyes.  "No."  

"We could bring you something…."

"I'm not hungry," she said, a little more sharply than she had intended.

There was a soft _zip _of fabric as Aeryn dragged her fingernails over the coverlet.

"Come on, guys," Ron said quietly, getting to his feet.  "Maybe we should just leave her alone."

As the other two moved to follow Ron's suggestion, Aeryn's head jerked up.  "No, please…." At any other time she would have winced at the broken desperation in her voice, but now she barely heard it.  The three paused and looked back at her, their faces uncertain.

"Can you just…stay with me?"  Aeryn tried to give a smile, to reassure them, to let them know that she really was okay, but failed miserably halfway through the attempt.  "You can…you can just ignore me, if that makes it easier.  Pretend I'm not here.  I just…." Her voice trembled slightly and she bit her lip.  

"I just don't want to be alone," she whispered helplessly.

Hermione instantly reappeared at her side, shooting a half-accusing glare at Ron.  "Of course," the girl murmured, placing her hand over Aeryn's.  "We'll stay with you."

After a moment and a quick glance at one another, the two boys slowly sat back down on Aeryn's bed.  Aeryn sighed slightly and put her head back down on the coverlet, her eyes staring listlessly out into space as an uncomfortable silence fell, broken only by the occasional squirming or shifting of someone's weight.

The gentle creak of the door exploded through the dormitory, and all eyes turned to see Professor McGonagall step into the room.  The two boys immediately jumped to their feet, their faces masks of guilt.  

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione exclaimed, also rising to her feet.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."  The deputy headmistress's gaze rested questioningly on the boys, but she did not comment on their presence in the girls' dormitory.  Her face was more haggard than usual, and the luster of the eyes behind the square-rimmed glasses was slightly dull.  Those eyes flickered once to the prone Aeryn, and then back to the other three Gryffindors.  "Would you mind leaving me alone for a moment with Miss Blake?"

Aeryn's fingers curled against the coverlet.

The other three glanced quickly at each other, but no one dared refuse a direct request from Professor McGonagall.  After a hesitant second they filtered from the room, closing the dormitory door behind them.  

There was a rustle of brocade against stone as the deputy headmistress walked over slowly and sat down on the bed next to Aeryn.  Aeryn swooped her hand restlessly across the coverlet, trying very hard not to feel the stillness of the room pressing onto her like a lead weight.

"I didn't feel very well all of a sudden, and I had to lie down."  Her voice was weak, and she forced herself to give a little smile.  She picked at a loose thread.  "I'll be okay in a little bit."

McGonagall gently placed her hand on Aeryn's back.

Aeryn drew a shuddering breath.  She could feel her lower lip starting to tremble, and a heavy lump was forming in the base of her throat.  She swallowed, the gesture painful.

"I should have gone to Dumbledore right away when this whole thing started."  She dug her fingertips slightly into the resilient fabric beneath her.  Her breath half-caught in her throat.  "Then none of this would have happened."

McGonagall did not speak.

"I'm sorry," Aeryn whispered suddenly, her voice choking.  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the surge of tears that threatened to overtake her.  "I should have told you…."

"Don't say that."  

The deputy headmistress' voice cut sharply through Aeryn's words, in a tone of voice that Aeryn had never heard from her before.  "You have done nothing wrong, Miss Blake, do you hear me?  You did _nothing wrong."  _

A little sob escaped Aeryn's tightly pressed lips, and she nodded briefly.

McGonagall heaved a heavy sigh and very gently began to run her fingers through Aeryn's hair in a soothing caress.

"You are not the one who should be apologizing," she murmured.

Aeryn sniffed.  The clenched muscles of her back trembled as she fought with herself, willing herself not to break down, willing the lump in her throat to dissolve, willing for everything to be all right.  The curtains of the open window fluttered as a sudden breeze stirred them, and the scent of fresh grass wafted into the room.

After a moment, Aeryn resumed her absent fidgeting with the coverlet.

McGonagall cleared her throat uncomfortably.  "I hate to be the one to tell you this…."

Aeryn's fingers stilled.

The deputy headmistress must have felt the movement, for she paused before continuing.  "But over the past few days, Headmaster Dumbledore has been, er…receiving many letters.  From the parents of students."  Her voice faltered.  "About you."

For a second, the words hovered in the air like dust in a breeze.  Then the meaning of what she had just said sunk into Aeryn.  A numb sickness spread through her body like molasses. 

Of course.  The last calculation of the equation had finally begun.

"So, which is it?" she spat, despair bitter on her tongue.  "That I'm a nymphomaniac little whore who seduced the Potions master, or that I'm a threat to their children's lives?"

Professor McGonagall's hands pulled away from the girl.  "I'm sorry," she whispered after a moment.

Sorry.

Aeryn closed her eyes and heaved a forlorn sigh. In the very back of her mind, she heard Professor's Snape's voice, with words that seemed a lifetime ago, but now their prophetic quality was heavy in her ears:  _Do you honestly think that Dumbledore will allow you to remain at Hogwarts once he discovers the truth about you…I'm sure many concerned parents will have plenty to say about their children attending school with you…really, once the word is out_….

"Miss Blake."  The deputy headmistress's words grated through Aeryn's disjointed thoughts.  "I know that—"

"Has it been decided yet what they're going to do with Professor Snape?" Aeryn interrupted, her voice suddenly clear.

Professor McGonagall paused.  "No.  It's still being discussed."  Her voice was oddly light.  "But we…we should know soon."

Aeryn scratched her fingers across the coverlet of the bed, feeling the tough fibers of the wool painfully twist her nails.  "I want to go with you," she said quietly.  "I want to hear the verdict."

The curtains rustled again as a fresh breeze stirred them, and Aeryn closed her eyes, the wind cool against her skin.

Professor McGonagall put her hand again on Aeryn's back.  "All right," she murmured.

*          *          *

The summer sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the grass and turning the water of the lake into sparkles of red gold.  The evening meal was finished, yet the students were still strolling around the grounds or in their respective common rooms, lounging in the comfort of end-of-the-year freedom.

In the second-year girls' dormitory, Aeryn sat at the window, looking out onto the lake.  A gentle breeze, cooled by the evening, ruffled her hair and she closed her eyes, drawing the scented air deeply into her lungs.  For a moment, she smiled, allowing herself to revel in the serene calm of the landscape.  But in the next instant the smile faded and she opened her eyes.

She was alone, but not for long.  Soon, all too soon, the second year girls would return, some to begin packing, others to gossip and chat with one another, and when they saw her here, their curious stares and their whispered words would tear her heart apart.

Aeryn sighed and dropped her head into her arms.  How was she expected to heal if that was what she would have to face day in and day out?  The whispers, the stares, the accusing glances….__

She sighed again and shook her head.  _I tried so hard and got so far…but in the end, it doesn't even matter._

Not _everyone_ hated her—that much she knew to be true.  She seemed to have the support of Gryffindor House, hesitant though it was.  Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor, she supposed wryly.  But the others….

_Over the past few days Headmaster Dumbledore has been receiving letters.  About you._

In Slytherin she had made a deadly enemy.  For having sulliedtheir beloved Head, the clan of the serpent seemed to have collectively sworn to make life as miserable for her as they could.  To the Hufflepuffs she was a source of fear, someone to be stared at wide-eyed and shied away from as she passed in the hallways or was glanced at in the Great Hall.  To Ravenclaw she was some bizarre enigma, to be studied shrewdly and scientifically, but only from a distance.  Never touched.

_After all, they all know what happened when I touched Lockhart_….__

A breath of wind stirred her hair, and Aeryn closed her eyes.

She wondered idly how many more bulbs of bubotuber pus she would receive before this was all over.

And then, to face Snape—

But with the thought of the Potions master came such a suffocating flood of emotions and memories that Aeryn choked, burying her head in the crook of her arm.  She bit her lip hard, willing the pain to drive away the fear, the shame—

She had thought—_Mom always prided me on being so strong, so unfazeable_—it was all over, everything was in the past—_if I've survived so much, why is it the movies in my mind, mere memories, can unmake me so—_and she had submerged them _so well, thought that she was beyond them, that she had the power to keep herself cool and logical—_

And until this afternoon in the interrogation room, she had succeeded magnificently.  Or at least she thought she had.

As the quivers slowly faded away from her body, she gradually became aware of the iron taste of blood in her mouth.  Surprised, she put a finger to her lips and pulled it away tinged with red.

To have to face him again…in the hallways, in the classroom…to have his eyes on her, even if the meaning behind the look had changed….

She shuddered.

Aeryn heaved a final sigh and sat up, giving her head a little toss to relieve the building pressure behind her eyes.

_I'm so sorry, Dad, _she thought bitterly._  I failed._

In the distance, behind the closed door of the dormitory, she could hear the sudden footfalls of the girls as they approached, their giggles ringing off the stone walls, their words muffled but the happiness tingeing their voices unmistakable.

Aeryn stood.  Outside, the shadows had lengthened to stripe the landscape, and the sparkles dancing on the lake were muted and murky.  With numb hands, Aeryn slowly pulled the curtains closed across the window.

Her fingers knotted in the thin fabric and she bowed her head.

_I can't go on like this anymore. _

*          *          *

Aeryn silently followed Professor McGonagall through the hallways until they finally reached the double doors wrapped in bronze.  The deputy headmistress knocked, waited for the response, and then she and Aeryn stepped through the creaking door, the skirts of their robes whispering against the stone floor.  

The assembled looked up as they entered, and Aeryn acknowledged them with a slight nod of her head.  Their faces were haggard with fatigue, and any semblance of normality that they had attempted to plaster across their features had melted away long ago.  

Professor Sprout motioned wordlessly to an empty chair that had been placed next to her, and Aeryn walked over and sat down, hoping that the emotions writhing within her were not as obvious as they felt.

As soon as she was seated, another door in the back of the room, one that she had not seen before, swung open, and into the room walked Professor Severus Snape, followed closely by one of the Ministry wizards.

Aeryn's stomach bottomed out.  As he drew closer, a paralyzing feeling spread through her body and for a second she was afraid she was going to be sick.

He seated himself in the chair facing the long table and his eyes scanned the faces of the assembly.  But as his gaze suddenly found her, Aeryn looked quickly away from him, bile rising in her throat as she trained her eyes on the floor.

The silence hung heavy in the room.

There was the squeak of wood against stone as Cornelius Fudge pushed back his chair and slowly stood up.  He cleared his throat loudly, and all eyes rose to him.  

"Before we begin," he said.  He turned and looked down the table towards Aeryn, and the stern rigidity locking his features softened slightly.  "Miss Blake, I would like to thank you for having been so open with us."  He inclined his head in a half-bow.  "We realize how hard this must have been for you, and for that we thank you."  

Aeryn nodded jerkily, not trusting her voice to speak.  

"That being said."  The Minister of Magic's gaze slowly swiveled to rest on the Potions master.  "We come to you, Professor Snape."  

Aeryn wrapped her arms around her chest as the two men's eyes locked.  Snape's face held its usual impassivity, but Aeryn could see the slight clenching and unclenching of his jaw as he regarded his brother-in-law.  Cornelius Fudge's features looked as if they had been carved from ice, and for a long moment, neither of the men moved.  Then, the corner of Fudge's lip twitched.  

"You despicable bastard," he snarled softly.

There was a sudden movement from one of the Ministry wizards.  "Mr. Fudge—" he began hesitantly.

Fudge slammed his hands against the tabletop and the sound splintered through the room, cutting the other man off in mid-sentence.  

"What you have done to this girl is beyond loathsome," Fudge spat, each word filled with a livid rage that seared Aeryn's ears.  He leaned forward across the table, glaring murderously at the Potions master.  "If it were up to me, I would have you castrated like the animal you are and—"

"Cornelius."

Dumbledore's quiet voice bit through the Minister's rant as cleanly as a knife blade.  In the tense silence that fell, Aeryn realized suddenly that she was cringing up against the very back of her chair, as if she could somehow crawl away from the outburst of wrath that had just exploded before her.  Professor Sprout was breathing shallowly beside her, the sound hoarse and strained.  Snape had not moved.  He looked as if he had just been Petrified, not even the folds of his robe stirring.

With what appeared to be a great effort, Fudge straightened.  His gaze blistered the Potions master for a second longer, and then, with a heavy exhalation, he sank into his chair.

There was a rustle of cloth, and Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, slowly rose to his feet.  Aeryn's eyes followed him of their own accord.  He looked down at the table, and then lifted his eyes to regard Snape.__

Aeryn's fingers tightened around her arms.

"Severus."  The headmaster's voice was low, devoid of its usual buoyancy, and Aeryn's heart gave a little twist in her chest.  With a wave of his hand, Dumbledore plucked a scroll of parchment from thin air.  "I'm certain I don't have to you remind you of this.  But."  He unrolled the parchment and regarded it calmly.  "In Article 5.4 of the Contract for Teaching Positions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it clearly states that any relationship beyond a normal teacher-student interaction is strictly forbidden under the penalty of immediate termination of employment."

He deftly re-rolled the parchment and banished it back to oblivion with another hand wave, and Aeryn barely caught the infinitesimal droop of his shoulders as he righted his gaze on Snape.

"And, unfortunately," he murmured, "there are other…_extremely _grave aspects of this relationship that must be taken into consideration."

Snape gave a brief nod, his black eyes unreadable.

Aeryn suddenly became aware that her left foot had fallen asleep.

Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back.  "We do realize that this stemmed from the influence of a very powerful drug administered by the late Gilderoy Lockhart."  He turned slightly and looked towards Cornelius Fudge as if to verify the last statement, but the Minister of Magic did not acknowledge him.  After a moment, the headmaster continued.  "But, although part of the blame certainly falls upon his shoulders, it does not eliminate the reality of what took place."

There was a small twitch of Snape's lips.  "Yes, sir."

Aeryn tilted her head slightly.  Even though the sun had set, the dusty room was filled with a soft light that seemed to originate somewhere near the ceiling.  She wondered idly whether one of the professors or one of the Ministry wizards had cast it.

She wondered why it was so hard to breathe.

The headmaster's words were clear and slow, easily understandable in the stillness of the room.  "This has been a very difficult judgment for us to make.  And as a result of the extreme circumstances of the situation, the original sentence…doesn't quite fit."  

Aeryn shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Snape still had not moved.

Dumbledore gazed at the Potions master, and Aeryn saw the pain lingering behind the headmaster's carefully emotionless features.  He gave a slow, sad shake of his head.  "You are not totally to blame, Severus," he murmured.  "But in this, you are far from the innocent victim."

Snape closed his eyes momentarily.  "Yes, sir," he whispered.

Aeryn realized that she was clenching her teeth together so tightly that her head was beginning to ache.

Headmaster Dumbledore heaved a long sigh, a noise that sounded as if it came from the very soles of his shoes.  He reached up and stroked a hand down his long white beard, and when he began to speak again, his voice was clearer, but slightly colder, as if he were delivering a memorized speech.  

"Owing to the uncontrollable effects the Berserker's Mead had on your system, you will not be expelled from your teaching position here at Hogwarts."

For a second, Aeryn thought she had misheard him.  Then she quietly collapsed back against her chair.  The tension that she hadn't realized was clenching her body suddenly drained from her, leaving her trembling like a marionette jerked upon its strings.  Finally, she remembered to look at the Potions master.  Snape was staring at Dumbledore with a mixed expression of stunned disbelief and hesitant relief.

She felt very cold.

"However."  

Aeryn's eyes fluttered back up to Headmaster Dumbledore, and what she saw on his face caused her blood to stop in her veins.  The usual twinkle had long since fled from his blue eyes, and his face was haggard. 

"Due to the violence the Berserker's Mead caused you to inflict on Miss Blake…."  He drew a deep breath.  "Following the end of this school year, you are hereby sentenced to incarceration in the wizard prison of Azkaban."

Aeryn felt Professor Sprout flinch beside her, and the soft hiss of indrawn breath from Professor Flitwick further down the table.  But she merely stared at the headmaster uncomprehendingly.

_Incarceration._

_Azkaban_….__

"You will spend an indeterminate term there, to be later settled, after which you will be brought again before this council."  His words were calm, too calm, as if he were merely reading a grocery list, and he continued as the shockwaves resonated through the air.  "If the assembled agree that you have paid a sufficient penalty, you will be allowed to resume teaching."

Aeryn slowly turned her gaze back to the Potions master, but nothing she could have expected would have prepared her for what she saw in his face.  Snape's sallow skin had drained of any color he possessed, leaving him paper-white.  His features were slack and emotionless, but his eyes—his eyes—

"However," Cornelius Fudge exclaimed, rising to his feet, "if at any time in the future there is an indication—however slight—of you so much as _looking_ at a student in an inappropriate fashion…." The Minister of Magic's lips tightened into a thin line.  "I swear I will personally watch as the Kiss is administered to you."  

The swirling emotions around her, on all sides of her…Aeryn closed her eyes momentarily, wishing that the queer pain lancing through her chest would stop.  Beside her, she could hear Professor Sprout struggling for control, and on her other side, Professor McGonagall was rapping her fingertips loudly on the tabletop.

_Please stop the world, I want to get off…._

"Do you have anything you'd like to say, Severus?"  Dumbledore asked quietly.

The Potions master's widened eyes gazed unblinkingly at the Hogwarts headmaster.  For a second, he seemed beyond speech, struggling to even think of words.  

"Azkaban?" he choked finally, and in those broken tones, Aeryn heard the undercurrent of fear in his voice for the first time.

Dumbledore nodded somberly, and Snape made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.  

Aeryn was numb.  Dumbledore had continued speaking, but she was no longer listening.  It was amazing, she thought, that such a life-shattering sentence could be proclaimed so calmly, and without any commotion.  She would have thought that it would have been followed by a cacophonous roar, shouts of denial, or at the very least, _some _form of discussion.

But it hadn't.  Everything was so very quiet.

"…Are there any other comments from the assembled?"

Aeryn's mind jerked back to the present as Dumbledore looked around at the assembled questioners.  Her throat was suddenly dry, and her heart thudded sickeningly in her chest.

_I tried so hard, and got so far…._

She swallowed hard.

"In that case—"

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Aeryn interrupted quietly in a voice that no longer resembled her own.

All eyes turned to her, and for a second she faltered.  But there was no turning back now.  She nervously cleared her throat and willed her gaze to be steady.  "If you will…I have something to say."  

The headmaster nodded and motioned to her with one hand.  "Of course, Miss Blake."

With slow, jerky movements, Aeryn rose to her feet.  She could feel the assembled gazes burning into her, and she clenched her jaw, turning her words over and over in her head.  She opened her mouth, then closed it, and then heaved a great sigh, closing her eyes and searching for the strength to begin.

_So now you're a witch…you can actually do magic_….__

She opened her eyes and lifted her head.  She fixed her gaze somewhere on the far wall, and unconsciously hooked a finger in the chain of her necklace, twisting it back and forth across her neck.  She drew a ragged breath.  "I have come to the…realization…."

_You have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…._

No.  That was not a good beginning.  She swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in her mouth as thick as cotton, and started again.  "Over the past school year, I…."__

Her voice broke, and she put a hand to her forehead.

Silence curtained around her.

No one moved.__

A conflicting surge of a million emotions and thoughts swarmed through her blood—the pain she had endured—the look of joy on her friends' faces—the excitement the first time she had lifted her wand and caused a feather to go flying through the air—the cold, leering eyes of Professor Lockhart—the shock of juice as it spilled down the front of her robe—

Aeryn dropped her hand from her face and squared her shoulders.

_But in the end, it doesn't even matter_….__

"Headmaster Dumbledore."  She lifted her chin.  "Owing to…circumstances beyond my control…."  

Her eyes unwillingly shifted and fell upon the face of Professor Snape.  For an instant, their gazes locked.

Then she smiled bleakly.

"I wish to inform you that I am withdrawing from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she murmured.

Stunned shockwaves rippled through the ether.  

"Thank you…" Her voice quavered, teetering on the edge of brokenness.  "Thank you…for everything you've done…but…."

Her words dried in her throat, and she bit her lip suddenly.  There was silence for an instant longer, and then, as the assembled turned to each other and began murmuring amongst themselves, Aeryn turned on her heel and hurried from the room, clasping a hand to her mouth to hold back the sobs that threatened to overtake her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N:  _**_The chapter title comes from the short story of the same name in the anthology 'Realms of Infamy,' from the Forgotten Realms fantasy series._

_"Please stop the world, I want to get off" – from the movie/musical of the same name._

_"I tried so hard and got so far/But in the end it doesn't even matter" – "In The End," Linkin Park_


	39. The Order Of The Founders

**Chapter 39: The Order Of The Founders**

The night air drafting across the lake was uncommonly cool.  Sitting on a hummock of damp grass beneath the brilliant stars, Aeryn buried her head in her hands.

_Azkaban_….

It was well past midnight, and although the rest of Hogwarts was wrapped in slumber, Aeryn could not sleep.  She had been wandering the grounds since the verdict, the words of the headmaster ringing dolefully in her ears like funeral bells.

_"Following the end of this school year, you are hereby sentenced to incarceration in the wizard prison of Azkaban_…."

And then her own voice, pale and trembling:  _"I wish to inform you that I am withdrawing from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_…."

She gave a little groan and dug her fingers into her face, feeling her cheeks flare hotly.  Now, with the privilege of twenty-twenty hindsight, she realized how very foolish it had been for her to announce her decision at the trial.  _Neither the time, nor the place_…she should have waited to tell Dumbledore and the Heads in private, instead of making a scene, _that's my problem, I'm _always _making a scene, _but—but—

Aeryn heaved a sigh and dropped her hands from her face.  What was done was done—there was no taking back words already said.  She looked out over the lake, the starlight dancing weirdly across the ripples of the water, and she remembered fleetingly her first journey across the lake in the boats with the first years, and how blindingly simple everything had been back then….

_Snape._

She closed her eyes, feeling her heart twist painfully in her chest.  It was over, the verdict was over and pronounced; within two days he would be taken to the wizards' prison of Azkaban to serve out his sentence.  Signed, sealed, delivered, done.

_It was what I wanted_….

But _was _it?  How was she supposed to feel, now that it was all said and done?  Neither regret nor relief seemed entirely to fit the situation, for the former suggested that she found his punishment totally unfair, and the latter implied that she was completely happy with the outcome.

Instead, she merely felt a dull ache.

Another breeze rippled the glassiness of the lake, and Aeryn shivered, feeling very alone.

*          *          *

_A little bit longer…I can still sleep for a little bit longer_….

With a languid yawn, Aeryn burrowed deeper into her bed, enfolded in sleepy warmth.  She should be packing, but not yet…not yet…she still had all day before the Final Feast…she could relax for just a bit—

The covers over her were suddenly and violently pulled off her.  Aeryn squeaked at this outrageous invasion of her privacy, and she curled into a little ball as the colder air of the room assaulted her body.  

"Is it true?" exclaimed a familiar voice, jerking her out of her fuzzy reverie.

Aeryn sat up slowly, blinking furiously to clear her blurred vision.  A boy's face floated into sight, a face with a shock of jet-black hair, bottle-green eyes, and an expression contorted with fury.  "Harry…what are you doing in here?" she croaked.

"Is it true what they're saying?"

Aeryn stared blankly at him, trying to force the rusty wheels of her mind to turn.  She had finally collapsed into her bed at six o'clock that morning, letting the weariness in her bones overtake her.  She shifted her gaze to the clock sitting on her bedside table.  One in the afternoon.  Aeryn gave an inward groan.  She should be packing.  The Hogwarts Express would leave the next morning at nine o'clock…but there still was all afternoon…and she was so tired….

"Is it?" Harry demanded, his voice harsh, and Aeryn suddenly remembered that she had a visitor.

"You're not supposed to be in here," she said, swinging one leg over the side of the bed.  Her eyes fell on a clump of second year girls, busily packing up their own trunks.  They were not looking in her direction, but Aeryn could tell by their overly-casual movements that they were paying extremely close attention to everything going on.  She gave a sigh and searched around on the floor with her foot for her slippers.

"They say that you're leaving."

His words cut into Aeryn like a knife.  Very slowly, she straightened and looked up at him.  The boy's arms were crossed, and there was an odd rigidity locking his shoulders.  His bottle-green eyes were very bright behind his glasses.  She drew a deep breath and stared tiredly at her friend.  

"Yeah," she answered finally.  

His lips tightened into a thin line.

Aeryn sighed and stood up, sending the second year girls into a flurry of whispers.  She walked over to the foot of her bed and kneeled by her trunk.  The sooner she started packing, the sooner it would be finished.  "I am."

"Why?" Harry asked between clenched teeth.

She flipped the lid of the trunk open.  The interior was a complete disarray of jumbled robes and haphazardly thrown-in textbooks, no longer needed now that classes were over.  Aeryn rolled her eyes and disentangled a rose-colored robe from the depths of the trunk.  Several textbooks and one crystal phial dropped to the floor in response.  "Because."  She gave the robe a shake and began to roughly fold it.  "I can't stay here."

"Why?"

With a muffled curse, Aeryn plunged her hands into the depths of her trunk and threw everything out across the floor.  The second year girls stopped and stared as she extracted a handful of textbooks from the multicolored fabrics and began to stack them in the bottom of her trunk.  _Flat things first, the malleable items can be shoved into corners if need be.  _"I just can't," she muttered.  She heard one of the second year girls whispering confidingly to her friend, and Aeryn's cheeks flared in response.  She tossed her collapsible telescope into the trunk and wedged it between her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2. _

"So you're running away?"  

She bit her lip and looked down at the glossy cover she held.  A cheerfully grinning picture of Gilderoy Lockhart beamed up at her from beneath the scrawling words _Gadding with Ghouls.  _She suppressed a shudder.  

_Won't be needing these_.  

With a vicious push, she sent Lockhart's books skidding beneath her bed, one after the other.  There was an odd pricking at the back of her eyes, and she blinked, drawing a deep breath.  She wondered fleetingly, as she dropped her brass scales into the trunk, whether those books she had so carelessly tossed away would exponentially increase in value now that the author was deceased.

"Is that it, you're running away?"

"Harry," Aeryn cried.

The dress she was holding fell from her hands, and she looked up him.  The boy had not moved from where he stood, but a sickened look was written across his features.  Aeryn exhaled, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck.  "You know what they think of me.  You've seen it."

He merely stared at her.  

She shook her head and turned back to the trunk.  "It will only get worse if I stay," she murmured.  She blindly grabbed for _A History of Magic _and wedged it into her trunk.  "I have to leave."

His shadow fell across her as he stepped to her shoulder.  "You can't leave," he said tightly.  "I won't let you."

Aeryn's shoulders drooped.  "Harry, don't do this to me," she begged quietly.

"I _won't!"_ the boy yelled.  

As Aeryn looked back up at him in shock, Harry clenched his hands into fists at his sides.  His face was screwed up in anger, and his breath was coming in short little bursts as he stared at her.  "I'll go to Dumbledore, tell him that he has to let you stay here, tell him—"

"Harry!" interrupted Aeryn tearfully.  She rose to her feet and gazed pleadingly at him.  

"Please," she whispered.  "Please, Harry, don't make this harder on me than it has to be."

Their eyes locked.  Then as she watched, the boy's face crumpled into a mask of misery.  "I _won't,"_ he exclaimed, but the sound was surprisingly like a whimper.  His green eyes became vibrant behind his black-rimmed glasses.  "I won't—let you go—"  

Harry suddenly launched himself forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Aeryn's waist.  Then, with a half-sob, he buried his face in her shoulder.

Slowly, Aeryn put her arms around her quivering friend.  The second year girls buzzed in the distance behind her, but she ignored them.  She closed her eyes and gently stroked Harry's black hair, his muffled sobs tearing her heart into pieces in her chest.

_But there is no other way.  _

The pain was unbearable behind her eyes, but no relieving tears fell from them.  Perhaps, she thought idly, she had no more tears left to cry.

She rested her cheek against his head.  "I can't heal here, Harry," she murmured over his fading sobs.  Reluctantly, she pulled away from him, lifting his chin to look into his eyes.  The boy ripped his glasses from his face and gave a loud sniff, wiping a hand across his face.  Aeryn tried to smile.  

"Someday…maybe someday I can come back."  She looked deep into his glistening eyes, wishing she could make him see what she felt in her heart, that this was the only path she could take if she wanted to preserve the shred of innocence that still lingered in her soul.

She gently stroked her fingers against Harry's cheek.

"It's just too soon right now," she whispered.

Harry sniffed again and wiped his nose on his sleeve.  He looked at her, and his lips tightened, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to burst into sobs again.  But then his shoulders drooped, and he gave a little sigh.

"It's not fair," he mumbled.

Aeryn leaned forward and rested her forehead against his.  "I know."

She drew a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers.  The whispering of the second year girls had died away, and a warm breeze wafted through the open window, fluttering the skirt of her robe.  

Aeryn sadly shook her head and stepped away from Harry.  With a sigh, she turned back to her trunk and sank to her knees, her eyes falling over the half-folded robes and the stack of books only partially packed away.

"I need to pack," she said softly.

With jerky movements, she resumed placing her things in the trunk.  After a moment, there was a rustle behind her and footsteps on the stone floor as Harry walked slowly from the dormitory.

*          *          *

"And so, another year draws to an end," said Dumbledore, surveying the tables before him like a king regarding his domain.  His blue eyes twinkled merrily over his half-moon glasses, and his voice rang joyously through the Great Hall.  "And what a year it has been!  Hopefully, we have filled your heads with enough knowledge that the ensuing summer holidays will not totally empty them!"

"It's pretty much the same speech he gave last year," Ron whispered to Aeryn confidingly.  "Fred and George say that's pretty normal—doesn't much matter, anyway, all that's important really is the presentation of the House Cup."

Aeryn nodded, her eyes wandering around the Great Hall as the headmaster continued his speech.  The Great Hall was completely decorated in the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor House.  A huge banner emblazoned with the proud Gryffindor lion stretched across the front of the Hall.  Aeryn's gaze swept across the staff table, regarding the familiar faces.  But as her eyes fell upon Professor Snape, sitting pale and quiet in his chair, she made a little noise in her throat and quickly glanced back at the table before her.

An enormous feast of every type of food imaginable weighed down the House tables.  She wondered fleetingly when she would again be able to eat so well as she had here at Hogwarts.  She snuck a peek at Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting around her.  Their faces were fixed on Dumbledore, their faces very serious in their school blacks and standard-issue hats.

"The moment has arrived for the presentation of the House Cup," Dumbledore exclaimed.  "In fourth place, Ravenclaw, with four hundred thirty-five points.  In third, Hufflepuff, with four hundred seventy-seven points."  There was a ripple of applause from the respective tables as their Houses were named.

"In second."  Dumbledore nodded to the Slytherin table.  "Slytherin, with four hundred ninety-eight points."  

Polite applause filled the Great Hall as the Slytherins brooded amongst themselves.  For the second year in a row, they were not receiving the House Cup, a fact that Aeryn noticed had failed to please almost every single one of them.  Malfoy, sitting as usual between his goons Crabbe and Goyle, looked positively heartbroken.

Dumbledore motioned with his hand towards the Gryffindor table.  "And in first place, Gryffindor House, with eight hundred fifty-three points."

All around Aeryn, wild applause and hoots of excitement arose from the pride of Gryffindors.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione clapped loudly, grinning at each other, and Aeryn remembered how Dumbledore had awarded them four hundred points for their defeat of the Creature of Slytherin.  She grinned at her friends and gave them a thumbs-up.  

As the applause died down, Dumbledore held up both his hands for silence.  "Before the celebration commences," he exclaimed as the students hungrily regarded the piles of food before them.  "There is one other presentation I would like to deliver."

A murmur rippled through the Great Hall, and Aeryn and her three friends looked curiously at each other.  Dumbledore waited for the confusion to die down, and as he clasped his hands behind his back, waiting to speak, his bearded face was suddenly grave.

"There are some types of strength that cannot be measured in terms of might or power," he began, and his voice rang clear and strong through the silence of the Great Hall.  "And sometimes the bravest of us all is the one who acts, not from courage or duty, but from love."  His blue eyes, now somber, slowly regarded each House table in turn, his gaze lingering over the faces of the students. 

"Over this past year I have seen unfathomable bravery and unmatched strength in the depths of one human heart."  A sad smile twitched his lips, and he bowed his head slightly before continuing.  "A human heart that, to do what she believed was right, risked—and lost—many things that she once held dear."

The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry stretched forward one hand towards the Gryffindor table.  His blue gaze caught and held Aeryn's face.

"Miss Aeryn Blake, please rise."

Aeryn's heart screeched to a sudden halt in her chest as all eyes turned and rested heavily upon her.

Slowly, with limbs that felt as if they had been carved out of marble, Aeryn rose clumsily to her feet.  She was instantly aware of the muttering as the students turned to whisper amongst themselves, but the whispers were swiftly silenced as Dumbledore held up a hand.

Aeryn swallowed hard.

Dumbledore gazed calmly at her, and she read warmth in the depths of his eyes.

"For your courageous deeds in unlocking the riddle of the Chamber of Secrets," he said, his voice filling the Great Hall,  "I am proud to award you with a Special Award for Services to the School."

There was a moment of stunned hesitation, and then a cordial ripple of applause wafted amongst the tables.  Aeryn stood still where she was, feeling a little more than puzzled but slightly pleased.  She snuck a look back at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and was not surprised to read something akin to her own emotions on their faces.  Harry, especially, looked perturbed, which Aeryn had expected.  

"But you and I already got those," he muttered furiously to Ron, in a voice loud enough for Aeryn to hear him.  "I mean…Aeryn deserved one too…but she did…."

"So much more," finished Ron in an undertone, raising an eyebrow at Aeryn as the applause died back down again.

Aeryn gave a little shrug.

A slow, brilliant smile lit Dumbledore's face.  "And for your spectacular rescue of Mr. Harry Potter, and your aid in saving Professor Severus Snape's life…."  

All the muttering still lingering in the Hall was silenced as if it had been sucked from the air.  

The headmaster paused and gave a little chuckle.  "Well, to tell you the truth, this is an unprecedented event even for Hogwarts," he confided, sounding a bit more like his normal self.  There was a slight wave of smiles from the teachers sitting at the Great Table.

Aeryn's eyes widened.  

"Because of the unusual circumstances of your deeds," Dumbledore continued, "we collaborated with the Ministry of Magic to come up with something suitably appropriate."   

Aeryn looked helplessly over at her friends.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione were quietly mouthing comments to one another, their faces confused.  Biting her lip, Aeryn cast her glance around the Great Hall.  All the students were staring at Dumbledore with looks of pure puzzlement on their faces, but most of the teachers were smiling wisely at one another.  She dared not look at Snape.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at the collective confusion, and he chuckled again, the twinkle in his blue eyes returning.  As Aeryn tilted her head to regard him, one of the headmaster's eyes fluttered shut in a quick wink.

He raised his voice until his words rang resoundingly from the stone parapets.  "The Four Founders of Hogwarts built these walls to preserve the values they cherished above all, and the trials that you have endured have proven you to be a student above and beyond their expectations."  

He held out a hand to Aeryn.

"For enduring strength through your unspoken hardships, you have shown the fortitude of a badger…."

At the Hufflepuff table, the students gave a little start, and then turned to stare disbelievingly at Aeryn.  

"For unraveling the mysteries of the Berserker's Mead, you have shown the wisdom of an eagle…."

The Ravenclaws collectively regarded her, but an admiring warmth was in their eyes.  Aeryn bit her lip, feeling her cheeks burn in response.  

"For uncovering the underlying evil corrupting Hogwarts, you have shown the cunning of a serpent…."

There was a murmur from the Slytherin table, and an uncomfortable shifting as they turned to look at each other, pointedly dropping their gaze from Aeryn.  But Aeryn paid no attention to them.  Her gaze was riveted to the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"And for your unbroken spirit through it all," he said, and in his voice were the bell-clear tones of pride.  "You have shown the courage of a lion."

There was a collective indrawn breath from the Gryffindors around her, and Aeryn's heart gave a great leap in her chest as Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up at her with radiant faces.  

At the Great Table, Dumbledore raised both hands, as if preparing to give a blessing.

"Aeryn Blake."

Aeryn lifted her chin, and was rewarded by a warm smile from Albus Dumbledore.

"I am honored today," he exclaimed, "to induct you into the newly-created Order of the Founders."  

His words hovered in the air like sparkles of light, and were swiftly absorbed into the stunned silence that descended like rain in the Great Hall.

Aeryn's breathing sounded very loud in her ears, and her eyes darted to either side of her, concerned at the overpowering _stillness _about her.  Her thoughts were whirling in her head like a flock of confused birds.

_Order of the Founders?  Is that a good thing?_

She dared not look at the faces of the students.

For a long moment, dust could be heard gathering in the corners of the Great Hall.

Then, beside her, Ron Weasley began to clap, slowly and respectfully.

Almost immediately, Harry and Hermione joined him, and the sound echoed joyously through the stone rafters.

One by one, the students of Gryffindor House began applauding, the sound merging into a growing cacophony.  From the Great Table the teachers began to clap, and Aeryn stared, amazed, as Professors McGonagall and Sprout wiped away tears from their eyes.  

Unbidden, her eyes flickered to the Potions master, and for an instant, their gazes locked.  Snape's lips flickered in an acknowledging smile, and he graciously bowed his head in her direction.

Like a tongue of fire through a drought-dry forest, the applause swelled through the Great Hall, growing louder and louder, until the sound was almost deafening, and at the Gryffindor table the Weasley twins leapt to their feet, hollering at the top of their voices, and were immediately joined by the Gryffindor Quidditch team—and the rest of Gryffindor House—

And Aeryn gave a small, thankful smile.


	40. The Fire You Touch

**Chapter 40:  The Fire You Touch**

Aeryn's fingers rested gently on the heavy knocker, drumming slightly against the metal as she bit her lip.  She hesitated for only a second, and then grasped the knocker and rapped it firmly against the door.

There was a slight pause.

"Enter," called a voice from the interior.

Swallowing hard, Aeryn pushed open the door and hesitantly peeked into the circular room.  The numerous silver instruments puffed merry little wisps of smoke from various spindle-legged tables, and a beautiful scarlet bird with a golden beak and black eyes trilled welcomingly to her as she entered and shut the door behind her.  

"Good morning, Miss Blake," said Albus Dumbledore, looking up and smiling gently from behind his large claw-footed desk in the center of the room.

For a second, Aeryn could not speak.  Her eyes were fixed on the black-robed figure sitting before the headmaster's desk that had turned at her entrance and was now sitting unmoving, staring at her.  

Snape.

She had not expected him to be here.

She had not expected to see him again—she had not expected him to be here—

"Morning," she finally remembered to choke.  She twitched her lips into a grim semblance of a smile and looked to the headmaster, feeling her face drain pale.

She could feel the Potions master's eyes burning into her, and she tried not to shiver.

The headmaster's face was calm.  "Shouldn't you be getting ready to get on the Hogwarts Express?" he asked.

Aeryn laced her fingers tightly together behind her back.  "I…." She swallowed hard, feeling her heart leap about in her chest like a Mexican jumping bean.  

_Getaholdofyourselfcomeongirlgetaholdofyourself…._

"I came to say goodbye," she said.

Dumbledore's eyes were understanding.  "Of course."

Without really intending to, Aeryn's gaze flickered over to Snape.  He was staring intently at her face as if he expected her to disappear any second, and her eyes inadvertently locked with his.

For a long moment she could not move, could not breathe, could not even think.  Then she tore her eyes away, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it was threatening to explode.

"Oh, good heavens," Headmaster Dumbledore exclaimed suddenly.  Aeryn looked up at him and saw him shake his head in disbelief.  He raised his eyes to the ceiling and gave a little, amused sigh.  "I seem to have misplaced my extra pair of spectacles."  He got to his feet and headed towards the door.  "If you will please excuse me…."  

It might have been a trick of the lighting, but to Aeryn it seemed that his twinkling blue gaze rested pointedly on Snape for a fleeting instant.  Then, with an overly-obvious shrug, Dumbledore slipped from the office, shutting the door quietly behind him.

A heavy silence fell, broken only by the soft sound of the outdoors coming from the open office window.  She could hear him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and she bit her lip, twisting her fingers against each other until her knuckles popped in protest.  

Then she cleared her throat loudly and turned her head.  She kept her gaze fixed to the chair that Dumbledore had occupied a few moments earlier, and she tried to smile, more to keep her voice pleasant than to express any feelings of lingering happiness.

"What…." Her voice stuck in her throat after the first word and, helplessly, she motioned with one hand towards the desk.  

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him run a hand down the side of his robe.  "Just clearing up…some things."  His voice was even and smooth, but there was an odd forcedness to it.  He gave a little shrug.  "Before I…leave."

"Mmm," Aeryn answered, giving a nod.

Their words trailed away into the stillness of the room.  Aeryn tried her best to breathe normally as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, and she saw Professor Snape rub a hand awkwardly against the back of his neck and give a little cough.

She finally found the strength to turn her gaze and look directly at him.  His greasy black hair had fallen across his face as he looked intently at the floor.

"Professor," she said softly.

He lifted his head and their eyes met.  Aeryn froze, the words she had been preparing to say shriveling in her throat.  A hundred different emotions and questions twirled like dancers in her confused mind, flooding her.  There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to know….

There was a whir and a gentle chime of the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the office, and Aeryn belatedly remembered that time was not on her side.  She clenched her hands into fists at her sides and grasped for the first coherent question that swam into the forefront of her brain.

"How do you think things would have turned out…you know…if none of this had ever happened?" she asked.  The words sounded clunky and clumsy even to her own ears.  

The Potions master's brow furrowed slightly, and Aeryn desperately reached out for an explanation.  "You know…." She gave a helpless shrug.  "If there hadn't been Lockhart."

Understanding crossed Snape's features.  "Ah."  He gave a little nod and sat back in his chair, crossing his hands over his knees.  "Yes, I see what you're asking."  He tilted his head and regarded her calmly.  "If Lockhart had never been in the picture, if I had never taken the Berserker's Mead."  

Aeryn nodded.

Snape heaved a sigh, and for a moment his eyes flickered somewhere away from her, as if he were searching for something.  "Things would have been quite different, I believe."  His lips twitched.  "For starters, I never would have approached you.  My attraction towards you would have been no more than a passing, barely conscious thought." 

His eyes turned to her, and he smiled bitterly.  "The same thought, I'm certain, that passes through every man's subconscious when he looks at you, though he is unaware of it."

An answering, equally bitter smile touched Aeryn's lips.

Snape ran a lean hand through his hair.  "Our relationship would have progressed no further than a sporadic 'ten points from Gryffindor,' or 'detention, Miss Blake.'"  He raised an eyebrow, and a gentle glint entered his black eyes.  "Although I highly doubt that would have happened, Gryffindor though you be."

Aeryn gave a tiny laugh.

"And you would have been safe."  Snape shook his head and looked away from her, out the open window onto the sunny grounds of Hogwarts.  "You would have blissfully continued your studies here—granted, you would always have been looking over your shoulder to see if anyone would discover your mutation—but it could have worked."

Aeryn bit her lips together and clasped her hands in front of her.  What _if_ Lockhart had never given Snape the Berserker's Mead?  Her eyes followed Snape's towards the open window.   For a moment, she caught a glimpse of a different ending…something warmer, something happier, with its own darkness and hidden secrets, of course, but….

She closed her eyes to shut out the vision.

"But unfortunately it didn't turn out like that, did it," Snape said, so quietly that she almost didn't hear him.

Aeryn shook her head.  "No."

"And after all you've done."  He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was sharp with anger.  _"This_ is your reward."

Aeryn opened her eyes and regarded him.  The Potions master was still looking out the window, and his figure was so still that he could have been Petrified, or carved from stone.  She gave a little shrug, trying to ignore the pain lancing through her heart.

"I was the one who chose it," she murmured.

Silence dropped between them.

Aeryn gave a barely audible sigh and crossed her arms over her chest.  Her mind was filled with _what ifs _and _if onlys, _murmuring to her with their maddening, insistent voices, and she shook her head angrily, trying to silence them.  For though she might long for the escape of _what if, _she could not escape reality.

_This is the path I chose._

"Forgive me," Snape whispered suddenly.

Every single thought spinning through Aeryn's mind dissipated like a sand castle in the force of an ocean wave.  The Potions master turned slowly in his chair until he was looking her full in the face.  Aeryn gaped at him.  She had to have heard him wrong.  She _couldn't_ have just heard him say….

"If I could, I would change it all," he said.  His eyes were hollow holes of pain.  "But I can't.  And I am so sorry…_so sorry_…for everything I've done to you."  

Aeryn's breath was coming fast and heavy in her chest.  She could not move—could barely think—as Snape rose to his feet, his eyes fixed upon her.  He raised a hand as if to touch her face, but he dropped it short of its goal, and he swallowed hard.  

"I suppose it is too much to ask for forgiveness."  There was a dullness to his voice, and as he paused, his jaw clenched tightly.  He drew away from her, his features twisting in some unidentifiable emotion.  "I don't expect you to give it to me."  

He looked away and his gaze fell to the floor.  "But at the very least you deserved an apology."

Aeryn could only stare at him.  He was apologizing—_apologizing—_and his face was turned away from her and she saw him exhale slowly, the sound as bleak as the winter wind—_it's not like you to say sorry—_and she was slowly aware of her pulse throbbing in her wrists, and the heavy lump in the base of her throat like a knot.

She drew a deep, struggling breath, feeling quivers chase up and down the length of her spine.  Her head was surprisingly light, as if she had just inhaled a balloon full of helium.  She tossed her hair, willing the motion to give her some strength.

_Forgive me, he asked_….__

"You're right."  Her voice was as brittle as splintered glass.  

The Potions master slowly lifted his head and looked towards her, his eyes shrouded by his fall of black hair.  Aeryn tightened her hands around her arms.  

"I don't know if I can ever forgive what you've done to me," she said harshly.  

His features did not change, but his coal-black eyes shuttered and he turned his face away.  Had she not been looking for it, Aeryn would have missed the infinitesimal slump of his shoulders and the whiteness of his locked fingers.

"But I can forgive _you,"_ she whispered.

His head jerked up.  Tears sprung suddenly into Aeryn's eyes, and she put a hand to her mouth, trying to hold back the unbearable pain building in the base of her throat.  

Snape stared at her.  Despair, sorrow, anguish—all these and more were written across his features, so raw that her heart twisted within her.  Then, the Potions master's face crumpled.i

"I'm so sorry," he said brokenly.

She nodded, and a hot tear trickled from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.  

"Me too," she murmured.

They stood there for a moment, unmoving, their eyes fixed upon each other.  Then Aeryn held out a hand to the Potions master, beckoning to him.  He took a slow, hesitant step towards her, and as her unshed tears threatened to overtake her, Aeryn quickly reached forward and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. 

Snape's arms gently enfolded her.  Aeryn squeezed her eyes tightly shut and twisted her fists into the material of his robe.  As she bit her lip, willing herself to get control of her emotions, she felt him rest his lips against the top of her head.

"If you ever need anything…." His voice was muffled, but she understood every word.  He softly stroked her hair with his long fingers as she tried not to sob, the effort wracking her small body in shudders.  "Anything at all, ask it, and if it is within my power to help you, I swear that I will move earth and heaven to do so."

Aeryn nodded.  "I—will."

In response, his arms tightened around her, and Aeryn's breath sighed from her in a half-sob as she rested her cheek against his chest.

There was a sudden, sharp rap at the door.  Aeryn and Snape jumped away from each other as the office door swung open and Albus Dumbledore walked into the room.  Aeryn gave a loud sniff and hurriedly dashed a hand across her face.

Dumbledore's calm blue eyes regarded Aeryn and the Potions master, but he did not comment.  He merely turned to Snape, and his face, usually so gentle and wise, was suddenly darkened by sadness.  

"It's time, Severus," he said quietly.  

Snape nodded curtly.

Dumbledore drew his wand and walked over to the blank stone wall across from them.  _"Apparatum chemenia!" _he cried, slicing the wand in a downward motion.  Aeryn started as the stone of the wall trembled, and then swirled as if melting.  Within seconds, the stone had morphed into a beautiful fireplace, complete with gilt-edged mantelpiece and flickering flames.

An instant later, the dancing flames roared into a column of green, sheeting fire.  Aeryn gave a muffled exclamation and skittered a step backwards.  A trio of darkened forms appeared suddenly in the emerald blaze, and as Aeryn watched with widened eyes, a tall figure stepped from the fireplace.  He was a thin wizard with a square face, wearing iron-gray robes edged with scarlet.

He turned and looked sharply at Snape.  "Is this 'im, sir?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said.

The thin wizard's eyes narrowed slightly.  Then he lifted his hands, beckoning to either side of him, and the two other figures glided from the fireplace into the room.  Aeryn regarded these newcomers warily.  They were also tall, but cowled from head to foot in long gray robes.

Beside her, Snape made a strangled noise.  At the sound, the two cowled figures raised their hoods and looked in his direction—

—a horrid gurgle suddenly echoed in Aeryn's mind, followed by a harsh growl, _"Kill the girl, then get out of here," _and Aeryn choked, the images flashing before her eyes—and then the face of Gilderoy Lockhart, his hair golden fire in the torchlight floated before her—_"Quid pro quo, Miss Blake," _hissed a terrifyingly familiar voice_—_she tried to scream, but nothing came, and a horrifying cold leached into her—

_"Enough!"_ Dumbledore roared, and suddenly the horrifying memories split as if a hammer had smashed them to pieces.  As they faded, Aeryn found that she was doubled over, holding her head in her hands and whimpering softly.  She straightened with a great effort, and found she was trembling from head to foot.  Dumbledore was standing beside her, and his blue eyes were flashing in the direction of the gray-and-scarlet robed wizard.

The headmaster of Hogwarts pointed an accusing finger at the cowled figures, which had dropped their heads and slunk back a step behind the wizard.  

"You were not to bring Dementors here," Dumbledore said, his voice shaking with fury.  "I gave explicit instructions on this point."

The wizard gave an apologetic nod.  "I'm sorry, sir," he said, but the apology was dampened by the underlying disinterest in his voice.  He gave a lofty shrug.  "But these are the rules, sir, in case of…problems."  

There was a pained noise next to her.  Quivering, Aeryn twisted her head to regard the Potions master.  Snape's face was paler than marble, and his coal-black eyes were haunted as he stared towards the Dementors.  Like her, he was trembling as if gripped by an attack of the ague, and he screwed his eyes shut, his breath shuddering from him with a sound like a file scraping across glass.  

"All right, miss?" the wizard asked calmly, and Aeryn looked up to see his cold eyes upon her.  "Sorry 'bout that—the Dementors latch onto any happy memories they can find and suck 'em from you, whether you're the guilty one or not." A lizard's smile twisted his lips.  "The effects should fade in a few hours or so.  Don't take it personal, like."

Aeryn stared at him, aghast, and began to realize just exactly to what the Potions master had been sentenced.

"The Dementors are for Azkaban, and Azkaban alone," Dumbledore snarled.  Aeryn had never before heard him so livid.  "Kindly remember that."

The wizard shrugged, and then turned his sharp eyes towards Snape.  "Come along, Mr. Snape," he said briskly.  "Don't want to be late."

Every muscle in Snape's body went rigid.  A myriad of warring emotions crossed his face, and for a moment, Aeryn was afraid that he was either going to faint or vomit.  Then his features smoothed as if stroked by an invisible hand and became expressionless.  Like a condemned man seeing the gallows on which he is to be hanged, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin.  His lips tightened.  Then, slowly, he took a step towards the fireplace.

She was unsure what spurred her next action.  Whether it was from the sickening pity echoing within her for his fate, whether it was the understanding of what he heard when the Dementors turned their cowls to him, or whether it was from a deeper emotion within her that had no name, she could not say.  But before he could take another step towards the fireplace or the Dementors, she caught Snape's hand and yanked him back towards her.  

Before anyone could move to stop her, she grabbed the Potions master's face and pulled his lips down upon hers.

Shock bristled through the ether, but Aeryn wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could, feeling the terror awakened within him by the Dementors surrounding him like a black cloak, and she kissed him fiercely, savagely, willing his horror to fade, willing the screams echoing in his head to subside, willing him not to give in to his memories.

He stiffened, but as she clung to him, his muscles slowly relaxed, and he brought his arms up around her.  And finally she felt—at the very edge of her consciousness—a soothing bit of calm breaking through his horror, slowly beginning to melt it away.

She heard the warning rustle of robes behind her.  Quickly, she broke the kiss and pressed her forehead against Snape's, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers.

"I forgave you," she whispered.  "Remember that."

They pulled away from each other, and she saw that Snape's face had regained a fraction of its normal color.  He reached out and ran a hand gently down her cheek.  _Thank you, _he mouthed silently.  

Overcome with emotion, Aeryn could only nod.

Snape turned.  He did not speak, but there was a new set to his shoulders as he strode into the emerald flames of the fireplace, flanked by the wizard and the two Dementors.  The wizard put a hand on the professor's shoulder and gave a farewell salute to Dumbledore.

"Azkaban!" the wizard exclaimed, and in the blink of an eye, they were gone.  Within instants, the green flames flickered, died, and the fireplace shifted and merged until once again it was nothing more than a stone wall.

Aeryn stood where she was, as still as if she had been Petrified, staring at the blank wall.  Her hands and feet were as cold as ice.  She was faintly aware of the distant buzzing in her ears, and the slow throbbing of her heart.  She swallowed, wondering why the gesture was suddenly so difficult.

There was a rustle of cloth, and Albus Dumbledore placed his hands gently on Aeryn's shoulders.  The warmth bit into her skin, and her vision blurred.  A little whimper escaped her lips, and she slowly turned and let herself be enfolded in the headmaster's arms.

*          *          *

Aeryn watched the countryside disappear out the window of the Hogwarts Express as her friends quietly talked to each other.  She put her hand against the glass, noticing how the rolling, wooded hills slowly gave way to urban sprawl as they approached London.

The rest of her goodbyes to her former teachers had been less dramatic, but no less difficult.  As she had hugged Professor Sprout goodbye, she had been able to tell that the squat little witch was valiantly trying to hold back tears, and Professor McGonagall's farewell had been oddly choked and her eyes had been strangely wet.  

Hagrid's, in particular, had been an exceedingly painful goodbye.

"Yeh shouldn't have teh go," the big man had growled on the Hogwarts train platform.  His voice was rough, but his beetle-black eyes were misty.  _"Yer_ not the one what did summat wrong."

Aeryn shook her head, not wanting to get into a lengthy discussion that would serve no other purpose than to dissolve the two of them into tears.  She handed her trunk to the train porter and turned to the gamekeeper.  

"'Bye, Hagrid," she said softly.

It was hard to read his emotions beneath his bushy black beard, but she could see his brow furrow as if in pain.  Then with a sort of grunt, he pulled Aeryn into a bonecracking hug.

"Won't be th' same without yeh 'ere," he muttered brokenly.  "Come back 'n visit sometime, will yeh?"

Aeryn squeezed Hagrid as hard as she could.  "Okay," she mumbled.

At that moment the piercing whistle of the Hogwarts Express split the air.  Aeryn unwillingly loosened herself from her large friend.  Hagrid brushed a hand across his eyes and gave a sniff.

"G'won, now," he said gruffly, motioning to the train.  "Best not teh let th' train leave yeh here."

As the train whistled again, Aeryn quickly kissed her fingertips and pressed them to the gamekeeper's lips.  "I'll visit," she promised, and then, with a little smile, turned and hurried onto the Hogwarts Express before he had a chance to see the tears brimming in her eyes.

Now on the train, Aeryn turned her gaze to her three friends.  Their faces were gloomy as the high buildings of London began to zip past them.

"Come on now, guys."  She tried to keep her voice cheerful.  "It's not goodbye _forever."_  

Their long faces did not change.  Aeryn sighed and folded her arms across her chest.  "It's not like I'm disappearing off the face of the earth or anything."  She shrugged, trying not to let them see how nervous their silence made her.  "Besides, you're always welcome to come visit me…I mean, you've got this great summer vacation now."

"Holiday," Harry murmured.  He looked over at her, his bottle-green eyes bright behind his black-rimmed glasses.  "Summer holiday."  A tiny smile flickered across his face.  "Crazy American."

The words brought with them the memory of the first time Aeryn had heard him say nearly the same thing, and an answering smile twitched her lips.

There was a rustle at the doorway of the cabin.  "Um…Aeryn?"  

Four pairs of eyes turned to see a very nervous Oliver Wood standing in the doorway.

Aeryn got to her feet.  "Hey, Oliver."

"Hey," the Gryffindor Quidditch captain answered, grinning broadly at her.  He looked quickly down at the ground and shuffled his feet.  "I…I realized that I…didn't get to say…goodbye."  He looked back up at her, and a light blush colored his cheeks.  "Back at Hogwarts," he explained.  "So I, um…." His voice trailed away and he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.

"Yeah," Aeryn said quietly, leaning against the doorframe.  "Well…."  

Behind her, there was the faintest of sniggers.

She smiled and held out a hand to Wood, who gave it a firm shake.  "Goodbye, Oliver." 

There was an even louder snigger behind her.

Wood dropped her hand and gave a shy smile.  He turned as if to go, but then turned back around and slipped an arm around Aeryn's waist, pulling her to him in a very clumsy kiss.  Then he released her and stepped away, blushing bright red to the roots of his blond hair.

"'Bye," he mumbled.

Aeryn laughed delightedly.  "Come back here, Oliver," she exclaimed.  Before the Quidditch captain had a chance to pull away, she put her hands on either side of his face and pulled his face down to hers in a long kiss.

The sniggers erupted into full-scale snorts.  Aeryn felt Oliver's cheeks flare beneath her hands, and she couldn't help smiling as he put his arms back around her and returned the kiss.

There was a screeching of brakes as the Hogwarts Express slowed, having finally reached King's Cross Station.  Aeryn and Oliver pulled away from each other as the train shuddered to a halt in front of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"I'm certain you'll win the Quidditch Cup next year," Aeryn said as the other three occupants of the cabin stood up, pointedly nudging each other and smirking.

Oliver grinned sheepishly at her, his face as red as a boiled lobster.  "Pity you won't be there to cheer the team on," he mumbled, shoving a hand through his hair.

Aeryn gave a shrug, her eyes becoming pensive.  "I'll see what I can do," she said thoughtfully.

The Quidditch captain's face lit up like a Christmas tree.  "Promise?"

Aeryn smiled and nodded.  "I promise."

Oliver beamed and, with a quick nod to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he ducked away down the corridor.

Aeryn followed her three friends off the Hogwarts Express onto the platform.  All around them, joyous families swooped upon the students, jabbering excitedly—_"Look_ at you, why, you must have grown ten centimetres since Christmas, your father won't even _recognize _you!"—and as Aeryn gathered her things from one of the porters, she heaved a sigh.

"There's Mum and Dad," Hermione said suddenly, pointing to a very nervous-looking couple standing very close to the partition between Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and the Muggle world.  This year Headmaster Dumbledore had requested for all students to be picked up at the platform, owing to a very embarrassing incident the year before involving two unruly sixth-years and a stuffy Muggle train porter in King's Cross Station.  To decrease the likelihood of such an event happening again, all parents had been given Portkeys to pass onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, along with strict instructions to keep their children under control.  

Hermione took a step towards her parents, and then hesitated, looking back over her shoulder.

"Um…" Her voice was oddly light.  "Maybe we…we should say goodbye."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Right," Ron exclaimed finally.  He sounded like he had something stuck in his throat.

Harry set Hedwig's cage on the ground and tried to smile.  "'Bye Ron," he said, giving a little wave.  He turned and smiled to the brown-haired girl.  "'Bye, Hermione."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, nodding violently.  "See…see you guys in a few months."

"Yeah."  Hermione blinked furiously.  "Until…until September."  She drew a deep breath, and gave an overly-huge smile.  "Maybe we can, um…meet up in Diagon Alley to buy school stuff again.  In August, I mean."

"Yeah," the boys chorused.

Their voices trailed away and, as one, their eyes slowly turned to rest on Aeryn.

Aeryn shrugged, a heavy lump of pain tightening in her throat.  "Well."

Misery began to etch across the three young Gryffindors' faces.  Aeryn bit her lip.  She would not cry.  All through the train ride, she had told herself that she _wasn't going to cry.  _But she could feel that resolve slipping away as her friends shuffled their feet uncomfortably.

She heaved a sigh and let her eyes wander over their faces, memorizing their features, trying not to let the growing wail within her of _when will I see you again? _overtake her.

"Goodbye, guys," she whispered. 

Hermione's face crumpled.  With a little sob, she threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Aeryn.  Gulping, Aeryn hugged the girl tightly.

"I'll write you," Hermione murmured into Aeryn's shoulder.  "I'll write you every single day, whether you answer me or not, I promise."

Aeryn stroked her friend's hair.  "I'll answer."  They stepped away, and Aeryn gently placed her hands on the girl's tearstained cheeks.  "Oh, Hermione."  She gave a little smile.  "Don't work too hard next year, okay?" 

Hermione laughed slightly.  Then, with one last tearful grin, she waved a quick goodbye and hurried over to her parents.  

Aeryn exhaled slowly and then turned to Ron.  They stood staring at each other uncomfortably for a few seconds.  Finally, Aeryn shook her head and motioned for him to step over, and she enfolded him in a gentle hug.

"There he is!" Aeryn heard suddenly, and she looked up to see the red-haired Mrs. Weasley rushing towards them with Ginny, the twins, and Percy in tow.  Ron drew away from Aeryn and swiped furiously at his eyes as his mother approached.

"We've been looking all over for you," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.  "Hello, Harry—hello, Aeryn."

Harry and Aeryn mumbled a hello.

"Come along, Ron, your father's waiting for us at home."  Mrs. Weasley took her youngest son's shoulder and began to pull him away.  She looked back over her shoulder at the other two.  "Harry—" she looked pointedly at the boy— "if you need anything this summer, don't hesitate to contact us."  Her eyes flickered to Aeryn and she smiled.  "Aeryn, dear, see you in September.  Have a good summer."

George, Fred, and Percy Weasley's faces suddenly became expressionless.

"Yeah," Aeryn whispered as the matriarch of the Weasley family herded her flock of children towards the gate between the wizard and Muggle worlds.   "See you in…September."

Ron glanced back at her and for a second, their gazes locked.  He mouthed a small _goodbye, _and then followed his family through the partition.

The rhythmic buzzing of voices swarmed around her, punctuated by laughter and the clatter of luggage.  Aeryn's hands were cold, and her throat ached.  She swallowed hard, trying to dissolve the pain, but only succeeded in making it worse.

There was a rustle beside her, and she turned and looked into Harry's bottle-green eyes.  

They did not speak—did not even move for a long moment.  There was an odd shimmering in the boy's eyes, and Aeryn felt her lips twitching as she bit them together.  Then the boy stepped forward and flung his arms around her.

Aeryn embraced him tightly.  He had grown in the past year—she wouldn't be surprised if he was now approaching her height.  As he burrowed his face in her shoulder, she gently ran her fingers through his black hair.  Her mind whirled back over the times they had shared—the very first time she had seen him, in oversized clothes and his wide-eyed wonder—his shared joy when she had been accepted to Hogwarts—studying together in the Gryffindor common room—the snowball fights—his laughter as the Gryffindor Four plotted together—

She closed her eyes.

_In the end, _she thought sadly, _in the end after it's all said and done, and they ask me what was the hardest to give up…it was you.  You three.  Everything else was shadows and dust._

She drew a deep, shaky breath.  "I shall miss you…_so_ much," she whispered brokenly.

In response, his arms tightened around her.__

She did not know for how long they held each other.  But it was many moments before Harry lifted his head, leaving her shoulder strangely damp.  Aeryn leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead, and he gave a long sniff.  They straightened and smiled tearfully at one another.   

Harry's eyes flickered over Aeryn's shoulder, and he gave a groan.  "I see Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

Aeryn turned around and indeed, standing several yards behind them, there was the Dursley family, complete with son Dudley.  Aeryn noticed wryly that the ten months had not served to wipe away the sour set of Petunia Dursley's face, nor served to reduce Dudley's bulk—actually, it looked as if he had _gained _weight, impossible though that seemed.

Aeryn glanced back at Harry and raised a knowing eyebrow.  "I think," she said slowly, "it might be a good idea for me to go over and say hello."  

Harry looked at her skeptically.  A genuine smile crossed Aeryn's face, and she put a comradely arm around Harry's shoulders.  "I mean," she exclaimed, motioning towards the Dursleys with one hand, "don't you think it would be extremely _rude_ of me not to say hello to my former employers?"

Harry still looked skeptical, but he picked up his trunk and Hedwig's cage and allowed Aeryn to lead him over to where the Dursleys were standing.  Petunia Dursley was looking around her as if she expected someone to turn her into a toad where she stood, and Dudley was pressed up close to his father, every once in a while giving a small whimper as a wizard or witch walked too closely by him.  Vernon Dursley's face was very red, and he was muttering to himself under his breath.  He started as the two approached him.

"Hullo, Uncle Vernon," Harry said.

Dudley ceased from whimpering long enough to look up at Aeryn.  His pudgy face twisted in annoyed confusion.  "Who're you?" he demanded.

"Hurry up now," Mr. Dursley snapped, grabbing Harry's trunk from him.  He turned on his heel and began to stalk towards the partition.  "We've been waiting here quite long enough, hurry along—"

Mrs. Dursley, who had finally stopped eyeing all the passing wizards, turned and saw them standing there.  For a second she opened her mouth as if to lecture, but she suddenly froze.  Her eyes widened.  "Wait a minute," she hissed, pointing an accusing finger at Aeryn.  "You—you're—"

Aeryn gave a slow, toothy grin.  "It's good to see you again too, Mrs. Dursley."

The horrified look on Mrs. Dursley's face was priceless.

Suddenly aware that his wife was not following him, Mr. Dursley turned around, ready to bellow.  But as he saw Aeryn, a glint of recognition entered his eyes.  "Hold on—" He took a step back towards her, his gaze darting between the two women.  "You—aren't you—"

Dudley glared at her in bewilderment.  "Mum, who _is _she?"

"You'll be happy to know that Harry and I have grown quite close over this past year," Aeryn said languidly, and watched as the elder Dursleys' faces collectively drained pale.  

Fighting back the sudden surge of laughter welling within her, Aeryn turned mock-pleading eyes to Harry.  "Harry, darling, you _do_ promise to keep me informed on what's going on at your house this summer, won't you?"  She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.  "I mean, if I don't hear from you, I'm going to assume that these big bloody Muggles have locked you in that cupboard again and, well, I'll probably work myself into a frenzy and have to pay a…" She dropped her voice menacingly. _"Visit."_

Harry grinned at her, and Aeryn could see him struggling not to laugh.  "Of course, Aeryn," he promised with only a faint tremor in his voice.

"You—you—" Aeryn turned calm eyes back on the sputtering Vernon Dursley, who was turning variably beet-red and marble-white.  "You can't scare us," he finally exclaimed, lifting his multiple chins and shaking a finger at her.  "We—we know the rules.  You can't use m-m-m—" The word caught in his throat, and he glared furiously at her before continuing.  "You're not allowed to _practice _over the summer holidays!"

Aeryn laughed and waved a hand.  "Oh, no, _students_ aren't allowed, of course," she said merrily.  She gave a huge grin and leaned close to Mr. Dursley, ignoring his sudden flinch.

"But _I'm_ not a student," she whispered confidingly, giving a wink.

She straightened and bit back a giggle as a very small whimper escaped from Vernon Dursley's pale lips.

Harry balanced Hedwig's cage in his arms.  He looked back at her and smiled sadly.  "'Bye, Aeryn," he said softly.

Aeryn waved at him, feeling once again a telltale prickling behind her eyes.  "'Bye, Harry."

She kept her eyes fixed on him as he squared his shoulders and walked through the partition, followed immediately by the three Dursleys, who were practically falling over one another in their haste to leave the platform.

Aeryn dropped her hand, her eyes remaining fixed on the blank wall where her friend had disappeared.  The busy, comforting sounds of the wizarding world whirled around her—the squabbling of a family of four as they pushed through the partition, leaving behind them the lingering smell of magical candy—the mournful hoot of a hundred different owls as their cages jostled about—all these and more woven into a cacophony of sound that enfolded her like a blanket.

Aeryn turned and looked around her.  The multicolored swirl of robes, which were slowly being hidden as parents shoved sweaters over their children's clothes, so they could pass unobtrusively through the Muggle world—various wands waving in the air, and every once in a while a burst of light when a student 'accidentally' cast a spell—she smiled, letting the kaleidoscope of magic dazzle her for one last time.

She slowly walked back over to where her trunk was sitting, looking forlorn and ragged and completely un-magical.  Aeryn hoisted it with one hand and gave a grunt at how heavy it was.  She extricated her wand from her sleeve and tapped it against the side of the trunk, and immediately the weight disappeared as if everything inside had vanished.

Aeryn looked at her wand and gave a pleased nod.  _This will _definitely_ come in handy_, she thought, clumsily slipping it back into her sleeve.

The platform was sparsely populated as Aeryn stepped up to the partition.  Most of the families had already left, save for the few still squabbling about who was to carry what, or the seventh-years who couldn't bring themselves to tear away from their friends for the final time.  Aeryn heaved a huge sigh and looked straight at the wall before her.  To all appearances, it was a normal brick wall, solid and strong.  

And the instant she stepped through it, there would be no coming back.

Aeryn glanced around her one last time, trying to fix every detail in her memory.  The candy-apple red of the Hogwarts Express—the feel of Knuts and Sickles in her pocket—the slightly-sweet, heady smell of train grease—all these and more swirled around her in a final farewell.

Her free hand reached up and gently traced the silver chain around her throat.

And she smiled.

She squared her shoulders and fixed her eyes upon the wall before her.  "Come on, girl," she whispered, clutching the handle of her trunk tightly.  "On to the next big adventure."

Aeryn closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and stepped forward through the partition.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Let Him Fly" 

_By Patty Griffin_

Recorded by the Dixie Chicks**** Ain't no talkin' to this man 

_Ain't no pretty other side_

_Ain't no way to understand_

_His stupid words of pride_

_It would take an acrobat_

_And I already tried all that_

_I'm gonna let him fly_

_Things can move at such a pace_

_The second hand just waves goodbye_

_You know the light has left his face_

_But you can't recall just where or why_

_So there was really nothing to it_

_I just went and cut right through it_

_I said "I'm gonna let him fly"_

_There's no mercy in a live wire_

_No rest at all in freedom_

_Choices we are given_

_It's no choice at all_

_The proof is in the fire_

_You touch before it moves away_

_But you must always know_

_How long to stay and when to go_

_And there ain't no talkin' to this man_

_He's been tryin' to tell me so_

_It took a while to understand_

_The beauty of just letting go_

_Cause it would take an acrobat_

_And I already tried all that_

_I'm gonna let him fly_

_I'm gonna let him fly, fly_

_I'm gonna let him fly, fly_

_I'm gonna let him fly_

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_A/N_**_:  Wand: five Galleons.  Wizarding robes: twenty Galleons.  The look on your former employer's face when she realizes you can turn her into a toad: priceless.  Many thanks to my beta-reader Rosmerta for her biting humor!_

_The novel has ended, but the story has not.  If I've kept you this far, I urge you to continue onto the explanatory epilogue…_


	41. Epilogue: We Were Merely Freshmen

**Epilogue: We Were Merely Freshman**

There are so many things I wanted to say at the end of this story.  Unfortunately, just like my characters, when it actually comes time for me to speak, I never can find the words to say what I really mean, and I end up rambling uselessly until people get tired of reading or I get tired of writing, whichever comes first.****

No one was supposed to like this story.  You were all supposed to flame my mailbox five times a day, railing about my uncharacteristic treatment of people, places, and events, and swear to have me blacklisted from every Harry Potter fanlist out there.  After all, it sometimes seems that rape is a taboo subject even in today's societal standards—especially in stories where it's dealt with realistically and not thrown in there 'just to add spice to the plot' because 'she was asking for it, anyway.'

(By the way, if anyone ever DARES to tell me that any rape victim, real or imagined, deserved to be raped, I will fly to whatever corner of the earth you may inhabit, find you, and rip you apart with my bare hands.)

As some of you have already figured out, TFYT came into existence owing to some very scarring experiences in my past.  And, just so that no one freaks out this early in the tale, let's get this out of the way:

NO, I HAVE NOT BEEN RAPED.  

However, about eleven months ago, I discovered that one of my friends from high school was raped.  It had been one of those random 'hit-and-run' (for lack of better words) things you read about in bad romance novels or the newspapers.  She had been jogging when a guy suddenly attacked her.  She never saw his face, and he was never caught.

I don't know how she's doing right now.  I'd like to think she's okay, because when I saw her this summer she seemed happy and was hanging out with all her friends.  Of course, I'm sure she's drugged up on Prozac or something.  But I haven't heard anything about her recently, and while I know that 'no news is good news,' I can't help but be concerned.

That event was a springboard that lead me to write TFYT.  But, of course, there's more to it than that.  The rape was just sorta the straw that broke the camel's back.

I have two best friends, whom for the sake of the story we will call Catherine and Yvonne.  Ever since we started a girl's trio in sixth grade, we've been inseparable (even through college). 

Our senior year of high school, there was a biology teacher (whom I shall call Mr. H for the sake of the story).  He was an odd type…was in the army for ten years or so, divorced, forty-something, et cetera.  I remember vividly that one time he brought a live chicken into the classroom and then chopped its head off so everyone could see what 'running-around-like-a-chicken-with-its-head-cut-off' really means.  Everyone in the school knew he was odd, but (as with most stories like this) it was universally accepted.  And so the year progressed.

Now, Catherine is one of my most brilliant friends, and she really enjoys learning.  So of course, she always asks a lot of questions, gets into intellectual arguments, and always goes in after classes for extra help on homework and the like.  Since biology was one of her favorite subjects, she immediately started this pattern with Mr. H.

I'll dismiss with all the tedious lead-ups to the problem, but halfway through the year, Yvonne and I became aware that Mr. H was interested in Catherine, and not as a student.  He sent her presents, he wrote her poems, he would call her house, have her call his house, he gave her special treatment in class, et cetera.  Finally, one afternoon after class, he cornered her and told her that he was interested in pursuing a real relationship.

When she told us this, I had a nervous breakdown and I started screaming at her as tears streamed down my face.  If I remember correctly, I said something to the effect of:  "How could you be so stupid!  How could you!  You should have known that something like this was going to happen!  How the fuck could you let this happen, that you could let it have progress this far?"  I know that I scared her (because I am normally a very stable and calm person, and it takes a lot to make me cry), and we all realized the seriousness of the situation.

Being the stupid 18-year-olds that we were, Yvonne and I firmly laid down the law to Catherine.  She had the power to cut this off, and she was going to do so.  End of story.  If she did, we wouldn't go to any authorities (although we said that if anything further happened, we would).  So Catherine told Mr. H that she wanted to end all this madness.  She told me that when she spoke to him, he got out a plastic knife, handed it to her, and said, "Why don't you just cut my heart out while you're at it?"  

But it was over.  Or so we thought.

About two months later, Mr. H started his attentions towards Catherine again, with renewed force.  That was it.  Yvonne and I went to one of the assistant principals (who was a very good friend of ours) and told her the whole story.  To make this overly-long story somewhat short, we were eventually able to kick Mr. H out of school.  But not on sexual harassment charges.  In order to keep the papers out of it (and to keep Catherine and her family out of it), they didn't press those charges.  And until the whole thing was over, I wasn't allowed to tell my parents.  Every time my mother asked me "How was school today?  How are the girls?" I had to paste on a phony smile and lie "Oh, they're fine, everything's good," and all the while my stomach was turning in knots within me.

And now, the bastard's somewhere in Florida, and as far as I know, still teaching, and free to pull another stunt like that.

So that's Catherine's involvement in the saga.  There is also another facet that is on a more personal level that, for me, might have even been more scarring than the whole Mr. H thing.

In the same year of high school, there was a young and quite attractive math teacher, whom we shall call Mr. R for the sake of the story.  I found him quite attractive, and had many a pleasant daydream about him.  He had a prep hour at the same time I didn't have class, so every so often I would go into his room and chat with him, and I suppose 'flirt,' in my own way.  He liked many of the same things I did, and he always came to the choir concerts (of which I was a part).  True, he was engaged, but I could toy with the notion in my head, couldn't I?

Anyway, the year went on, and eventually the last day of school came.  I went into his classroom and (I cringe to write this) I gave him a kiss.  This is not unusual for me; I kiss everyone.  Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed me and French-kissed me.  Long and hard.  Then we parted, and I walked out to my car in a daze.

It wasn't until later that I realized how amazingly fucked-up that all was.  Granted, I suppose part of it had been my fault (and that is a big thing for me to admit), but still.  He was the teacher.  He should NOT HAVE DONE THAT.  Hell, I should not have done that, but he DEFININTELY SHOULD NOT HAVE DONE THAT. 

I saw Mr. R for the first time since that event this summer.  Remember the movie I told you that I was working on?  Well, he was working on it too.  Ironically, he was the Biblical reference contact for the movie.  I walked into the house and saw him.  My stomach plummeted to the floor, and I remember vividly the sickening, paralyzing feeling that spread over me.  I thought for a second that I was going to throw up.  Acting normal was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

I have told this story to several of my friends, but I have always made it sound like it was entirely my doing.  I don't know why.  Maybe it's just self-preservation.  They laugh, shake their heads at me, and we go back to our everyday lives.  

Granted, these events could have been worse.  A lot worse.  But, as you can obviously see, I've been pretty scarred by this all.  I didn't really realize HOW scarred I was until I started writing TFYT.  

I had always been raised to believe that authority figures (like teachers, policemen, clergymen, et cetera) were good people, who always did the right thing, in whom you could always trust.  These events showed me that, although these people may be in elevated positions, they are human.  And human beings are not always good people.

So.  There is the tale.  

If any of you readers have ever experienced a situation similar to those that I have related in either this Author's Note or TFYT in general, you have my utter, complete, and total sympathy.  I don't want to go into pages of psychoanalysis or some clumsy expression of how terrible I feel for you, but just know this:  no matter what happened, IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT.  And if, for some reason, you are in a situation similar to this—for God's sake, do something about it.  Talk to an administrator, your friends, someone and anyone you can trust.  In real life my endings were happy, but they don't always end up that way.

And, as Forrest Gump would say, "That's all I have to say about that."

For all of you Snape/Aeryn shippers:  It's far too soon.  FAR too soon, at least for Aeryn.  She's too wounded.  Hell, it's taken me three years to get over my teacher experiences, and I haven't gone through anything as horrific as she did.  Perhaps in time.  But not now.

For all of my faithful readers and reviewers:  Thank you.  Thank you a million times over.  Besides the obvious glee it gives me to FINALLY finish a story that I've started (that's a first for me, I believe), I've been able to heal, and part of that is due to the fact that you enjoyed the story and spurred me on to finish it.

To Slytherin Goddess:  You're a fabulous beta-reader, and your reviews have left me laughing to no end.  I hereby christen you the leader of "Abby's Defenders" owing to your fabulous dedication on my Schnoogle review board.  Thank you for everything, darling.

To Lari:  You're definitely one of the most surprising and cultured people I know, and you're so like me that it's terrifying.  You as well are a fabulous beta-reader, and definitely a candidate for the co-leader of "Abby's Defenders."  Ma chérie, I thank you.

To Auror61:  I'm sure you're probably kicking yourself for all those ideas that you gave me that appeared in these final chapters.  LOL.  If it's any consolation, darling, they were fabulous ideas, and your creative mind has helped me over many a writer's block.  I can't wait to bounce ideas off you for the sequel.  Your beta reading is marvelous, but more than that, you're a great friend.  Merci mille fois.

To Rosmerta:  What can I say to you that I haven't already?  Beta-reader, friend, confidante…the _hours _that you and I have struggled over this story have definitely paid off, darling.  I hate to use trite and hackneyed words, but I couldn't have done it without you.  Truly I couldn't have.  I feel so blessed to have crossed paths with you, and I'm certain that even after all is said and done with my fanfic quests, we'll still be writing to each other.  I love you, my dear.

*Gives a bow*

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for making this adventure such a fulfilling experience.  Yes, a sequel is forthcoming, although it will be long months before I begin to write it.  I want to go to the beach; I want to be able to speak French so well that I'll come back to the States not knowing how to speak English; I want to start working (in earnest) on my original novel.  But, in time, we shall meet again. 

Cheers, darlings.  –AKB

_…and for the million hours that we were_

_Well, I'll smile and remember it all_

Then I'll turn and go out 

_The story's completed_

_But man, it's a long way from done…_

_                        -Sister Hazel, "Champagne High"_

~*~*~*~*~*~

_            **Chapter 6: McGonagall's letter of acceptance to Aeryn.  Roughly based off Harry's acceptance letter to Hogwarts in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone.**_

_            **Chapter 7: The description of Dumbledore's office.  Taken from "The Polyjuice Potion," chapter 12 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets****, page 205.**_

_            **Chapter 8: Having the turtle breathe steam with a blue-patterned shell.  From Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.  Snape's lecture to Aeryn and the events surrounding her first Potions lesson are based pretty much based from Harry's first Potions class in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone.**_

_            **Chapter 9:  How about the entire thing?  Exclusively borrowed from "Diagon Alley" in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone, and "At Flourish and Blotts," chapter 4 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 42-64.**_

_            **Chapter 11: Again, pretty much the entire thing.  Exclusively borrowed from "The Sorting Hat" in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone.  Except for the song, that is—I made that up myself, and I'm darned proud of it.  When Aeryn is listening on to the conversation between Snape/McGonagall/Dumbledore to basically the end of the chapter, it has been taken from the end of "The Whomping Willow," chapter 5 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 81-85.**_

_            **Chapter 12: The Gryffindor Foursome catching the pixies.  Based on events from the chapter "Gilderoy Lockhart," chapter 6 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pretty much from pages 102-103.  The description of the Potions dungeon is from "The Potions Master" of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone.**_

_            **Chapter 13: The description of the diary.  Based off of the description from "The Very Secret Diary," chapter 13 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, page 231.**_

_            **Chapter 14: Opening paragraph.  Taken from "The Deathday Party," chapter 8 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, page 122.**_

**_Chapter 15__:  Aeryn's reaction to the Imperius Curse.  Taken from when Mad-Eye Moody casts the curse on Harry in class in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.       _**

**_Chapter 16__:  Everything except for the few small changes I made (God, that sounds so horrible when I write it out).  Taken from "The Deathday Party" and "The Writing on the Wall," chapters 8 and 9 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, most specifically pages 137-145._**

_            **Chapter 18: Description of Filch's actions after the attack on Mrs. Norris; "The Writing on the Wall," chapter 9 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, page 146.  The Gryffindor Foursome's discussion of the Chamber of Secrets; taken from the same chapter from the same book, pages 158-160.  Brief description of the Chamber of Secrets is taken from Professor Binns' lecture from the same chapter, same book, pages 149-152.  Aeryn getting Lockhart's signature for the Restricted Section of the library is taken from "The Rogue Bludger," chapter 10 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 162-163.  **_

_            **Chapter 19: The Gryffindor Four discussing the Polyjuice Potion; "The Rogue Bludger," chapter 10 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 164-166.  The Quidditch match draws from details from the same chapter of the same book, pages 166-173.  The voices Aeryn hears are the same that Harry hears in "The Deathday Party," chapter 8 of the same book, pages 137-138.**_

_            **Chapter 20: Colin in the infirmary wing; "The Rogue Bludger," chapter 10 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 179-181.  The Gryffindor Four preparing the Polyjuice Potion; "The Dueling Club," chapter 11 of the same book, pages 183-184.  Aeryn's reaction to the Polyjuice Potion; "The Polyjuice Potion," chapter 12 of the same book, pages 216-217.**_

_            **Chapter 21: Aeryn's flashback to the second week of December; "The Dueling Club," chapter 11 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 185-186.  The planning and stealing of the ingredients from Snape's private stores; same chapter of the same book, pages 186-188.**_

_            **Chapter 22: Aeryn at the dueling club meeting; "The Dueling Club," chapter 11 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 192-195.**_

_            **Chapter 23: From after Aeryn leaves the infirmary until practically the end.  Taken exclusively from "The Polyjuice Potion," chapter 12 from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 209, 210-226.  Descriptions of the Christmas feast are also drawn from the Christmas feast in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's Stone.**_

_            **Chapter 27: The first paragraph; "The Very Secret Diary," chapter 13 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, page 227.  **_

_            **Chapter 28: Where Harry shows the diary to the girls until Aeryn begins her conversation with Snape.  Taken from "The Very Secret Diary" of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 231-235.  Valentine's day; same chapter of the same book, pages 235-237.  I wrote the Valentine poems myself—aren't you proud of me?  Aeryn overhearing the scene between Harry and Riddle until the end of the chapter; same chapter of the same book, pages 246-248.**_

_            **Chapter 29: The Gryffindor Four discuss Hagrid's involvement in the Chamber of Secrets; "Cornelius Fudge," chapter 14 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 249-251.  Aeryn stealing Riddle's diary from Harry's dormitory; same chapter of the same book, pages 253-254.  The very next day, from breakfast until Aeryn tells the boys to go without her; same chapter of the same book, pages 245-259.  When the boys come back to the common room, Harry's last line is taken from the same chapter of the same book, page 264.**_

_            **Chapter 30: "Aragog," chapter 15 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 265-267 (the beginning of the chapter until Aeryn's detention), 269 (discussing the Forbidden Forest), 270-271 (the Gryffindor common room until the boys leave Aeryn in Hagrid's cabin), 274 (Mr. Weasley's car), 276 (description of the spiders), 279-282 (when Aeryn and the car burst into the hollow until the end of the chapter, with my own artistic touches thrown in).**_

_            **Chapter 31: **The beginning of the chapter until Ron's line about Lockhart curling his hair.  Taken exclusively from "The Chamber of Secrets," chapter 16 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 283-288.  ****_

            **_Chapter 32: _**_Description of the Chamber; "The Heir of Slytherin," chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 306-307.  Riddle's explanation of the attacks; Harry's explanation of the same thing from "The Chamber of Secrets," chapter 16 of the same book, page 291.  The staff room sequence; same chapter of the same book, pages 293-295.  From when the boys go to Lockhart's office until Harry gets to the chamber; same chapter of the same book, pages 295-298, 300-305._

_            **Chapter 33: **From the beginning until everyone arrives back up in the bathroom (with Aeryn and my own artistic touches thrown in); "The Heir of Slytherin," chapter 17 of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, pages 306-326._


End file.
